Year 2: Dawn
by Kamikashi
Summary: First part of the AT series “Stargate: Assiah”. The British Government knows about the Stargate program through its own Alien and decides to put her into it… and a new member comes to SG-1. Season 2. After “Serpent’s Lair” and before “In the Line of Duty”
1. Prologue: From London with blessings

**Stargate: Assiah**

**A Stargate: SG-1 AU, AT Fan fiction series by Kamikashi. Stargate © Roland Emmerich, MGM, Brad Wright and Jonathan Glassner etc. Jamila S. M. E. M. Bartholomew and other OC © Kamikashi. Storyline © Kamikashi.**

DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes, and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

**Summary:** The British Government knows about the Stargate program through its own Alien and decides to put her into it… and a new member comes to SG-1.

**Season:** 2 and ongoing. After "The Serpent's Lair" and before "In The Line Of Duty".

**Pairings:** Jack O'Neill & Sam Carter; Daniel Jackson & Janet Fraiser; Jolinar & Lantash (No Martouf though)

**BTW I created a font for High Antarian, look: kamikashi (dot) deviantart**** (dot) ****com / art / Font-High-Antarian-94771384**

* * *

**1998/99 – Dawn (Season 2)**

Enter Jamila. Please read and review!

* * *

**Prologue: From London with blessings**

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
NORAD/Stargate Command, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
SGC Briefing Room  
June 30, 1998  
1000 Zulu

"Oh, for crying out loud! You cannot be serious, sir!"

Anyone who passed on this particular late summer morning the meeting/briefing room of the Cheyenne Mountain Complex and heard _that_ specific catchphrase knew that SG-1, and especially its CO, Colonel Jonathan J. O'Neill, also known as "Jack", had a chiefly displeasing briefing.

General Hammond, commander of the USAF base and the SGC, simply shook his head. "I'm sorry, Jack. The British were rather displeased with being 'excluded' from _this_ here, and they have got irrevocable evidence for the existence of the Stargate. If we accept the new member for your team, we were promised our share with _their_ pieces of alien technology and knowledge."

"I still don't like it. Why? We got a good team. Why not just allowing the British an own team?" Jack frowned.

"That particular Briton _is_ the evidence against us. Bartholomew is an Alien with vast knowledge who serves in the Royal Navy. I do not really like this either, but… It's not like we got a choice in this matter, Colonel. Do you get it?" Hammond didn't really like it to force this upon his »flagship« team, but according to the uncensored (!) files he had got from the British Admiralty, their Navy officer was a great asset and ally. She would be _very_ useful in their struggle against the Goa'uld.

Jack sighed, defeated. "Alright, alright. Where is that guy transferring from?"

"_She_ is transferring from Devonport Naval Base, Plymouth, in the County of Devon, east to the Duchy of Cornwall in The United Kingdom." A tall, sharp-eyed woman with dark, pinned-up hair, dressed into a British Navy uniform with trousers and a standard forage cap (note 1) (not the one women wear but men), stood in the doorframe. From what Jack and the rest of SG-1 could see, she was well taller than himself, and her stature was not unlike his own, lean, strong and athletic. In her hands, she was holding three thick files with »classified/copy« printed onto them. "Permission to join, General, Sir."

Hammond turned around and smiled. "You really are a Navy, aren't you? Permission granted."

The woman entered the room and placed the files on the table. "Thank you, sir. Captain Bartholomew, Lady Portsmouth reporting as commanded, Sir." She stood to attention and saluted in the British fashion, the palm of her hand facing out.

"At ease, Captain. Have a seat." Hammond gestured towards the chair between himself and the Colonel.

"Thank you, sir." The tall navy officer relaxed, took her cap off, sat down and placed the hat in front of herself, on top of her files.

General Hammond smiled again, noticing her manners. "Welcome to Stargate Command, Captain."

"Thank you, sir."

Jack tilted his head towards her, eyeing her curiously. _'A full-bird _Navy _Captain (note 2), huh? She seems to be only a little younger than I am, though, despite her looks.' _"A Navy, huh?"

She grinned faintly. "A full-bird rubber duck, Colonel, sir. I am the last commander of the _HMS Northumberland_. That's why I transfer from Devonport."

Daniel snorted. "Rubber duck…"

"Or would you prefer bathing-tub-captain, Mr…"

"Dr Daniel Jackson."

"Oh, sorry. My pleasure, Doctor Jackson. Anyway, General Hammond, sir, as we are already at introductions, it would be convenient to do some more of these."

"You are right, Captain. Colonel."

Jack sighed. "Yes, Sir." He turned to the woman in navy dress blues. "Colonel Jack O'Neill. With two 'l'."

"Ah. The two _lima_ spelling is the spelling of the main clan in Ireland."

"Wow." Quickly, the Colonel recomposed himself and started to introduce the others. "This one here is Captain Samantha Carter, my 2IC and our specialist on the Stargate. I hope you don't mind techno-babble."

"HEY!"

Portsmouth snorted. "Easy, Carter. As long as you don't mind some nautical terms, I shall not mind science."

"This here is Space-monkey aka Daniel Jackson who translates everything but techno-babble." O'Neill continued.

"Jack!"

"And last but not least Teal'c, formerly First Prime of our all annoyance, Apophis."

Teal'c bowed his head.

"Very well, then. It looks like I cannot circumvent introducing myself." She took the hat from the files and shoved them to the Colonel, much to his surprise. "These are copies of my files – practically without blackening. I can imagine how much you trust me right now, sir, so it's up to you if you read them or not." She straightened herself in her chair, closed and reopened her eyes. Purple eyes. "One's name is Jamila Sarah Miranda Elizabeth Mary Bartholomew, by courtesy of one's mother Marchioness of Portsmouth. At least this is what one is in this life and body."

"Here it comes…" Jack murmured while both Sam and Daniel stared in disbelieve at the Captain.

"As you heard already and my secondary file gives away, I am NOT human. The highest evidence is the fact that my psychic age is slightly less than 23 milliards (note 3) years while I am actually 41 and my blood is blue, literally. Also, there is this issue…" She covered her ears with her hands, and as she removed them, their shape had changed: they were long and triangular, like an elf from a fantasy game. Sam estimated their length something around 3 inches.

But before the Navy could continue, the alarm sounded and Walter Harriman's (note 4) voice sounded through the intercom, "Unscheduled Off-world Activation!"

Immediately, everyone went down to the dialling room below. "It's SG-9, General, sir."

"Open the Iris."

SG-9 raced through the gate, a couple of Jaffa right at their tail. "Close the iris now!" their CO shouted. The iris was closed again and a couple of dull hits at it indicated that indeed more had been on its way before the gate disengaged.

Before the SFs in the gate room could react, however, Portsmouth disappeared in a flash and reappeared in the gate room below. It was over in an instant. Before anyone could do anything, she gathered a ball lightning of the size of a basketball over her hands crossed in front of her face and, with a simple glare, she sent the Jaffa and their staff weapons flying – in opposite directions. Afterwards, she jumped back and threw the ball lightning at the levitated Jaffa and yelled, "God makes no mistakes!" The Jaffa screamed as the lightning enveloped them… and vanished.

Upstairs, Jack stared at the scene in disbelieve. "What the hell was that, sir?"

Hammond smiled tiredly, remembering a report in the _second_ – the alien – file of Captain Bartholomew that she was capable of doing this. "This, Colonel O'Neill, is the very reason why she is placed on your team, like Captain Carter. The First Sea Lord (note 5) personally warned me of this. Ah, Captain," he said as the tall Navy reappeared at their side, "had some fun?"

"Hardly, sir. _Mortuos plango sempiternam_. I pity the dead." Portsmouth shook her head, breathing heavily. "Anyway, I believe that there are some more things to discuss, aren't there?"

"Certainly. SG-1, to the briefing room." He bowed over the microphone. "SG-9, to the infirmary for check-up and debriefing at 1130." After that, he marched up the stairs to the briefing room, where SG-1 and the Navy stood at their chairs.

"At ease. Sit down, please." Hammond took his seat at the end of the table. Chairs were moved, and SG-1 sat at the table once again. "So, where were we? I believe that you should better explain your little demonstration back down there, Captain."

"Yes, sir." Portsmouth frowned. "I was born a human, but obviously, my _soul_ is _not_ human. As I was fifteen, I had a near-accident. Instead of being hit by a car, I 'teleported' out of the way. The next day, my blood turned blue and I had to hide my ears until I could 'control' them. And then, the visions and nightmares came which told me that I am a reborn Alien. I cannot remember my former… existences properly yet, but…" She opened her palm, and suddenly, a ball of lightning was glowing and crackling over it, which she tossed into the air like a tennis ball. As it came back down, seemingly on her whim, she closed the palm over it and it vanished. "I can do things beyond understanding. I can make things move at will. I can levitate. That lightning… was composed of highly compressed electric plasma or something like that. I can use it as a weapon as you have seen." She grimaced. "But the number one abilities to my COs were the teleporting and matter-manipulation."

Jack, ever with his face in a mask, eyed her again. He knew that kind of grimace. He had seen it a couple of times on his own face while looking into the mirror after a nightmare. "And they had no shame in abusing it."

The British simply nodded. "Anyway, the main fact I remembered from my former existences is that I am an »Antarian«, a »Child of Light«." Again, she covered her ears with her hands, and her ears were reverted to »normal« as she placed her hands on the table again.

Now Daniel was the one with great interest on his face. "Antarian? You mean like the star, Antares?"

"Yes. Apparently, in the language of 'my kind', Antares means »mirror of light«, and Antarian »Child of light« or servant of Light."

"Wait…"

"In human mythologies, there is only one description how to translate the self-concept of my kind into human terms. It seems that I made a statement about the nature of Antarians long ago. _Watching Everyone, Learning Everything, Protectors of the Balance of The Universes, Guardians of Dimensions, Friends of Everyone but the enemies of life, who we despise._" Portsmouth sighed.

"Angels!" Daniel gasped.

"Correct. The Antarians are the 'Angels' of human mythologies."

Now Jack was back in the conversation. "Wait a sec…"

She turned her head to him. "What?"

"You know, with the Goa'uld and the Asgard on Earth, what was the Antarians' role? Culture-bringer or We-rule-all-we-are-gods?"

Her next reaction proved that calling her a »god« was really a bad idea. Her purple eyes flashed as if a lighting bolt had struck through them. With an unearthly voice, which was clearly not that of a Goa'uld, she hissed, "_There is no God but the one who created everything, which we shall serve for all time._ I serve, I do not rule."

Daniel quickly jumped in, for the air was crackling with static electricity. "You mean, the Angels described in all human cultures are actually Aliens? That would mean that there is a third type of alien influence on humanity."

As quickly as the anger came, it was gone. "Correct again. As you have put it, sir, the main influence on Assiah's children was either the culture-bringers, like the Asgard and some others, or the tyrants, like the Goa'uld. The third, minor group are the watchers and idea-bringers. A more subtle approach on helping this world without disturbing its balance is the way of the Antarians. That's all I remember so far… but I can dig up any knowledge."

Hammond nodded. "This is why you are here. You remembered the Stargate, according to your CO."

Now it was Portsmouth's time to let her head hung. "More or less. My orders are to tell you nothing but the truth about me, join SG-1, learn more… and telling you why my soul is apparently slightly older than the universe itself."

"What? This is impossible!" Carter exclaimed.

"Oh, really… and what about The Creator?"

"Eh…"

"Exactly. The first thing I remembered was the purpose of my very existence, and why I am not allowed to die before I remember everything. I am," she took a deep breath in, "some kind of living record data file of the entire universes."

SGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGC

The silence and the tension in the air that followed the Lady's defeated statement was thick enough to be cut with a combat knife. Finally, Jack and Daniel broke in simultaneously. "What the hell?!"

Instead of answering immediately, Portsmouth grinned and, out of nowhere, a small white Plexiglas sign with »l. l. a. m. – laughing like a maniac« scribbled onto it appeared in her left hand. "You really should see your own face, Colonel, sir. Rest assured, I could not really believe it either in the first place, but then again, how do I know things which are mysteries to the world? How should a normal SBS Captain know about _this_?" She gestured towards the Stargate.

"Point taken, Portsmouth. Would you mind to stop laughing?" Jack grew more and more irritated by the handheld sign every second.

"Oh, sorry." She placed the sign beside her forage cap. "I tend to get quite exited sometimes, especially about laughing…"

"And so you use internet chat abbreviations for laughing instead." Sam finished.

Hammond sensed that there was not much more to tell for now. "Well, I guess that's it for now, SG-1. You leave for a mission tonight. Only light exploration for starters, Captain."

"I can imagine. You need your own judgement, don't you, sir."

"You're right, Captain. Go to the quartermaster, he has the numbers of your room and your laboratory. I believe your equipment has also been delivered."

"Thank you, sir."

Hammond got up, and the officers stood to attention. "Dismissed."

"Sir!" They called in chorus before leaving.

"Colonel, I await your presence in my office. Now."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

At Hammond's office, the tone quickly changed. "So what do you think of the First Sea Lord's favourite toy, Jack?"

"Honestly? I don't know. She is about as open as…" he trailed off.

"Yourself? That's no surprise. I got six different versions of her military records here. The official one is not even worth reading, nearly all pages are blackened out. The only things readable are her last command, her name and her education." The General showed the official file to his confused 2IC. "Does that remind you of something?"

Jack moaned. He knew that having such a file was _never_ good. "_My_ file looks _exactly_ like this, sir. I'm sure that she would have to kill anyone outside of work who read these files here." He held up the unclassified folders she had given him earlier.

Hammond let out a frustrated sigh, venting both his own and his best officer's puzzled emotions. "I wonder what we have done that we deserve this…"

"I have no idea, sir. Anything else I can do for you?"

"According to her last CO, the First Sea Lord, Lady Portsmouth enjoys extensive training, more than necessary for a Captain. Observe her and then tell me what you think of her. Dismissed."

Jack stood to attention. "Yes, sir."

As the Colonel left the room, he could hear his CO picking up the phone. "Into what have I gotten myself?" he murmured as he made his way to the Quartermaster's office.

* * *

After leading Portsmouth to the Quartermaster, Sam quickly found out that the Navy had a temper reminding her a lot of her CO. "What do you mean, only Container No 1 has been delivered yet?!" she hissed with gritted teeth.

"I'm sorry, ma'am, really, but your equipment is considered so special that they got problems with delivering all of it at once."

Right now, Sam really, really didn't want to be in the poor Technical Sergeant's shoes. The glare of these purple eyes and the statically loaded atmosphere in the room was worthy of an O'Neill. _'__Time to lighten the mood_,' she decided. "What are the room and locker numbers of the Captain, Technical Sergeant?"

The Technical Sergeant turned to the Navy officer. "Your laboratory is on Level 23, opposite of Colonel O'Neill's office, ma'am. Quarters are on the same level, to the right of yours, Captain Carter, ma'am. For lockers, we have already stuffed one for you in the women's locker room and designated it as yours." He handed her a slip of paper. "Your lock code."

As abruptly as a London-five-o'clock-rain poured down, Portsmouth cooled down. "Thank you. About the secondary–"

"It will arrive soon enough, ma'am. Oh, and the 'special material' has already been sent to your lab, Captain Bartholomew, ma'am." The quartermaster shook his head. "I just wonder what you are going to do with–"

"None of your business, Quartermaster, thank you. And now, I wouldn't mind some blue BDU's. It's not that I don't like my dress blues, but I am not intending on covering it with coal dust. And I am not really the best in ironing."

Speechless, the Technical Sergeant went to the back and returned with some blue BDU's and handed them to the tall Briton. "Ma'am."

"Thank you, Quartermaster." Without more ado, she turned around. "Lead the way, Captain Carter."

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

About fifteen minutes later, Jack O'Neill entered his own office, placing the files of the newest addition to SG-1 into his desk and then intending on having a look into her office/laboratory after he found out that she had already left the Quartermaster's office in order to 'redecorate' her rooms. Outside again, he bumped into his 2IC, who was definitely spacing out. "Sorry Carter. Something wrong? You look like you have gotten yourself a new doohickey!"

Sam shook her head as she noticed him, bewildered. "Sir! You won't believe what Captain Bartholomew is doing!"

Jack followed her gaze and gasped as he saw through the open door. In the middle of the new lab, his new team member sat levitating in mid-air over a couple of pallets loaded with hard coal, eyes closed and concentrating hard. The coal however, which was enveloped in an eerie light, vanished bit by bit while at the same time on the empty wall to the right shimmering crystals and something like a computer console were 'growing' out. "Captain?"

Carter shook her head. "No use, sir. I tried to speak to her before; in effect, she is deaf, or at least »not here«, sir. And don't try approaching her, sir –" Too late. With some long strides, Jack tried to enter the room and was pushed back forcefully. He stumbled backwards.

"– she uses some kind of force field on the room. I was pushed back too." finished Sam. "I think she wants to make sure that she is not interrupted."

After a few minutes, the strange light died and the pallets of coal had completely disappeared. With a soft tapping sound, Bartholomew landed on her feet again. "Sorry sir. Just wanted to make sure I would not dissolve you… Do you want to come in?"

Both USAF officers were at a loss for words as they entered. The wall to the right was covered with some really, really shiny crystals and a computer console made of some black material stood in one of the corners. Finally, they managed to mouth a synchronous "Wow!"

"Glad you like it. These," she waved at the crystals, "are data crystals, but most of them are still empty or filled with rather useless stuff."

Fascinated, Carter stepped closer. "Which capacity do the crystals have?"

"In Bytes? No idea. Even one of the crystals is about ten terabytes. Not compressed." She shook her head. "To be honest, I don't even know _why_ I created such a vast 'hard disk' drive. I just know _that_ I will need it one day. Anything I can do for you, sir?"

Jack nodded curtly. "Yes. The Quartermaster said that the rest of your equipment will be delivered before we go for that mission tonight. Anyway, how should I refer to you? We are equally ranked after all, but…"

Jamila opened one of the transportation boxes on the floor and began to arrange some objects on her desk. "I take it that you never dealt with a member of Peerage before, sir? I'm Portsmouth. That's my title of courtesy. The actual title holder is my mother. Anyone outside of my family refers to me just as »Portsmouth«, sir. And thank you for the information."

"Portsmouth it is then. And you are welcome." He turned to leave.

Carter seemed to be completely lost in thoughts as she continued to stare at the data crystals. At last, she asked, "What's on the crystals as of now? How does the interface of the console work? How do you save data in the crystals? And what is that console for?" All in one breath. "Ma'am." she added.

Portsmouth turned around, displaying a baffled face at the astrophysicist's blinding speech speed. "Err… Colonel, sir… Is she always like this?"

Jack half-grinned, half-frowned. "That's the light version of Carter 1.0."

"Oh. Well, Carter, the console is a) a computer b) a long-range psycho-communication device, c) on the crystals is a basic system program comparable to Microsoft Windows or something like that, and some music I like to keep around and d) The interface is this plate on the surface for a non-Antarian, for it is a neural interface. Your thoughts control the system. And by the way, e) I have no real idea how it works." The Navy placed a big, old-fashioned bell alarm clock on the desk and set the time, which caught Jack's attention.

"Whoa, it's already lunch time! Do you like Jell-O?"

"Looks like it, sir. Uhm, no. I prefer cake and tea." She glanced at him questioningly.

Jack grinned again. "Oh, I think we can arrange that. I meet you all in the commissary. Carter."

"Sir?" Sam snapped out of her awestruck trance.

"Show her the way. And pick up Danny-boy and Teal'c." And he was gone.

Carter shook her head and turned to the Captain. "Well, that was the Colonel for you. If you would please follow me, ma'am…"

Closing the box again, Portsmouth made an inviting gesture. "Lead the way, Carter."

* * *

In the commissary, Jack sat down with something that should be Lasagne, a slice of chocolate cake and the military file of his new team mate. "Let's see what you are capable of, Milady…" He began to shuffle through her file. "…born 1957 in London, educated at public school St Andrews College, Liverpool; finished A-level with fifteen. Fifteen? Not bad. Entered Navy with sixteen…" He took a bite of his Lasagne and remembered the awards on her dress blues. "This is getting weirder and weirder… Graduated from Naval Academy and the ICL at 22 with three DScs on the rank of Lieutenant. Geez, I hope she's not a geek…"

"Who is not a geek, Jack?" Daniel sat down opposite of him, the rest of the team following on his heels.

The Colonel didn't listen. "SBS Officer Selection as Master Sniper, Swimmer Canoeist and SBS operator. Solo Combatant. _Selection_. Now this is interesting… Oh, hi everyone." He closed the file and started digging into his meal.

"Hello, sir. Ah, the wonderful smell of shit on a shovel – standard commissary food." Portsmouth took the seat to the right of the young archaeologist, a hell-defying smile on her face.

Jack snorted as the rest of SG-1 sat down. "Yeah, always worthy of forgetting it. So, you're a sniper, huh?"

"Looks like my training caused some interest." She sighed. "Yes, I am a sniper. And actually, I currently hold the world record for both long distance kill and close-in distance kill."

"From how far and how close?"

"Long distance kill from 2601 metres. Close-in distance kill 76 metres." She shrugged and dug into her meal. "I have to admit that being not human makes it a bit easier."

Jack didn't look up from his slice of chocolate cake as he answered, "Figures as such. It is that teleporting ability of yours isn't it?"

Jamila dropped both her head and her spoon. "Yes. And altered perception and awareness. Would you mind to change the subject? Some things really don't need to be warmed up, you know, sir."

He observed her again and decided to let it slip for now. "All right." He downed his coffee with the last bit of his cake. "I know the feeling, trust me."

"So, what are you planning to do now, Captain?" Daniel decided that it would be good to fill the silence with something more harmless than the Captain's abilities in combat.

The woman in question finished the last of her soup. "I guess I should unpack the boxes with my personal belongings and stuff my office. And then maybe call home for a few minutes."

She got up, and so did Jack. "I'll tag along if you don't mind. I have to get rid of your file for a while."

Jamila grinned, amused. "Well, I could use some company."

"Well then, guys, we'll see you at 1900 in the briefing room. Let's go, Milady." And they were gone.

Daniel arched both his eyebrows. "Wow. If that wasn't unique…"

"Indeed."

* * *

As he mentioned before, Jack stopped by his office to place the file into the drawers of his paperwork-covered desk and re-entered the now really unique office of the SBS operator. "Captain?" he called as he couldn't see her.

"Over here!" The Swimmer Canoeist's head reappeared from behind her desk as she placed a rectangular object made of the same material as the computer console on the desk. Several other objects from out of the box were flying in mid-air, seeking their respective places on the shelves in the opened locker on the wall.

"Eh…"

"Psychokinesis. Also known as Telekinesis. The ability to move things at will. Sometimes comes in handy. Especially if you have no real talent for tidying up at all." She grinned.

"I see. Anything else you can_not_ do?"

"Ironing. I cannot iron. Especially my shirts. Peeling vegetables. And I am really, really the worst Swimmer Canoeist in parachuting. I still don't know how I mastered the tests for my parachutist wings." She made a mock grimace.

Jack snorted. "We all have our faults. By the way, what is _that_?" He pointed to the flat object she had put on top of her desk by hand, just like the oversized bell alarm clock. It had roughly the size of a magazine and was about twice as thick as one.

Jamila turned to the object in question and motioned him to sit down on the chair in front of the desk while she took her seat. "It's a holograph projector and photo album. Care to see some, sir?"

"Why not. The only other thing I have to do is killing red tape." He sighed.

"Ha-ha-ha. Finally, a man who hates the paperwork as much as I do. Well, here we go…" She waved her left hand at the apparatus and suddenly, a three-dimensional picture of a rather large group of people was seen. The projector turned – by psychokinesis, he presumed – enough so that both he and Portsmouth had a good look at the image.

Curious, Jack got closer. "Who are they?"

"My family."

He studied her for a few seconds. '_She certainly has her own demons to deal with, but…_' He cut short his train of thoughts as he noticed something on her left hand. "You are married."

No question. A statement. The fact didn't escape the Antarian. "I am. These…" She pointed out a man in a wheelchair and a tall, silver-haired woman who stood at the left side of the image, "are my parents. The ones behind me are my siblings."

"Three siblings. You are the eldest, aren't you…?"

"I am. And this man is my husband. Captain William Andrews. I still got to laugh at the memory how he proposed…" She had a grin rivalling the Cheshire cat on her face.

"Oh? What's so funny about a proposal?"

"I was the only one who didn't know that he was going to propose. He even asked my parents for approval without my knowledge… and then, on the day I left Navy Academy, he proposed to me in front of the whole Academy!" Her expression was stunned, confused, bewildered at the mere _memory_; in short, a perfect copy of an O'Neill-I-do-not-understand-face.

"Wow. Quite a way to propose."

"Do you know what was best about it?"

O'Neill shook his head.

"Up until then, I hated the man with a passion and so he did. Or so I thought."

Now it was the time for Jack to be confused. "How come?"

"We were rivals. Always trying to be better than the other. Met him first at the Imperial College. And I was _always_ better than him. I made it top score as an MSc and MA. I was the top cadet at the Academy. And he always was _second_. _Second to a girl_." They chuckled.

"And as he knelt there, in front of the First Sea Lord, my family and the whole forsaken Academy, offering himself to me, he admitted that some time in that crazy ongoing duel he came to love me and gave up. Instead of trying to surpass me for himself, he chased me to stay close. In that moment I knew that I either could stay with him… or scare men away the rest of my life. I chose stay. And I don't regret it." She shook her head, a fond smile on her lips.

Jack didn't know what to think about this. It was certainly the craziest engagement story he had ever heard before. And so he laughed, accompanied by another handheld »laughing sign« (this time with "lol") by the Lady. Finally, he asked, "Why do you tell me all of this?"

Portsmouth covered her mouth to stifle a yawn. "It's nothing you wouldn't have found by reading my files, sir. And it seems like the jetlag is catching up on me… usually I do not let my guard down that much."

"I noticed. That's why I asked… You remind me a bit of myself about these things." He shook his head.

The tall woman abandoned the »laughing sign« and shrugged her shoulders. "I do not expect you to tell me of that kind of stories on your side, sir. That story I told you is known to more than tree hundred Navy officers and their families, so it is not really something private. Especially if your mother is a politician and musician. I take it that you are a rather private person, and so am I. I would not tell you the story how I came to hate my maternal grandmother for instance."

"I see."

"Well, if you excuse me now, sir, I still have to 'decorate' my on-base quarters." Jamila got up again, a lightly embarrassed half-smile on her face.

"Certainly. I see you later then." He stood up and left for his office, feeling a sensation of dread as he saw the waiting mountains of red tape on his desk, now including Portsmouth's transfer papers and her file he still wanted to read, now even more. Sitting down again and starting on the file and the transfer papers, he asked the picture on the first page of the file, "Who are you, for crying out loud? Why are you here? What the hell has brought you here?"

* * *

Notes:

1 Peaked cap of an commissioned officer and warrant officer in the UK.

2 A Captain in the Navy is the same as a Colonel/Group Captain (UK) in the other departments of the Armed Forces, NATO-rank-code OF-5.

3 EN-USA: 23 billion

4 Mr "Chevron 7 locked"

5 Commander-in-Chief of the Royal Navy

Jamila is spoken "Ja-mée-la", stress on "ee".

. (Doctor of Science) is the highest Doctorate grade in UK, usually given to the fields of natural Sciences.

You usually graduate from a military Academy at the rank of Sub-Lieutenant/ 2nd Lieutenant, NATO-rank-code OF-1.

* * *

AN: For all you SamJack DanielJanet shippers, this AU _will _turn eventually into a shipping story, and don't worry, Jamila is more of a supporting character with energy and memory problems.

Please read and review!


	2. Episode 1,5: Waters Calming down Pt 1

**AN: Sorry for splitting it, but I simply got nowhere and decided it would be better in two parts. Please Review!**

**DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This piece of fan fiction was created for entertainment, not monetary purposes, and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognised characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to the author. Any similarity to real persons – living or dead – is coincidental and not intended by the author. - Short: I own nothing but the OC's and the Antarians.**

**Season Spoiler: Season 2. Between "The Serpent's Lair" and "In The Line Of Duty" - Episode 1.5, so to speak.  
**

* * *

**Year 2, Episode 1.5: Waters Calming down (Part 1)**

_Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
SGC Briefing Room  
June 30__, 1998  
1900 Zulu_

Briefings were something funny. No matter what branch of arms in the military you were, to some people, they were the most boring thing you could attend, second only to paperwork. To other people, they were so informative that a Blockbuster at the cinema was boring to them. The last group of people didn't bother.

SG-1 consisted of all three types of team members. Colonel O'Neill and Captain Bartholomew were clearly of the first kind. The only thing that was off today was the fact that the two senior officers of SG-1 appeared in the briefing room a few minutes early.

The first thing Jack noticed about the amphibious combat specialist was the stifled yawn and the hastily made hairstyle. "Did you have some good dreams, Captain?" he smirked as they sat down.

"What?" Jamila was clearly only half-awake but soon she realized his question. "Very interesting, sir that humour of yours. I would not guess that you would sleep easily after a… reminiscence of your past duties."

'_Whoops. I caught her on the wrong foot. Time to clarify.'_ "I was talking about the hair. It was much neater this morning."

Relief was reflected in her eyes. "Ah, yes… I didn't hear the alarm clock and had to improvise."

Jack reverted to grinning. "At least you are not a caffeine junkie like Danny-boy."

She shook her head and returned the smile. "I rather prefer tea. And not for the sake of staying awake, sir. It's more of a calming habit."

"Pardon me?"

"Bernard-Paul Heroux said once there is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea. I tend to be a bit overexcited sometimes sir, coffee would really not be of real help."

"I see." He had wanted to continue the conversation, especially after reading so many similarities in her filed career to his own, but Sam and Daniel thought it would be very nice to stumble into the room, chattering excitedly about the possibilities of discovery in the upcoming mission, followed by Teal'c.

"Good evening, SG-1." Just as the team was completely present, Hammond came in, causing the three military officers to stand to attention. "At ease." They (re-)took their seats. "Captain Carter, Dr Jackson, please proceed with the debriefing."

Carter got up and started the screen, showing the picture of an island in a lake, connected to the shore by a white, filigree bridge. "According to the MALP and UAV data we received, there is a structure on PX5-932 on this island which is both of archaeological and technological interest. The MALP scan of the island showed that a vast, dormant power source exists inside."

Daniel picked up the remote, switched to the UAV scan and stopped the picture. "On the bridge which leads to the structure we found some unknown writing. I have already ruled out that it is simply ornamental; it lacks a pattern. Also, we were able to rule out that it was one of the races who met at the planet we saved Ernest Littlefield from. The writing reminds me actually of stars or constellations, like the glyphs of the Stargate. I am curious who built this place, since we found no signs that the planet is inhabited."

"Any sign of Goa'uld?" Jack asked in no particular direction.

Daniel shook his head.

"Other threats?" Jamila asked.

"No. We didn't even find indicators for greater beasts of prey. Unless someone decides to come there, the only dangers we'll face would be storms."

The Antarian made a sour face. "Don't underestimate Mother Nature. She might be the worst adversary you could face in her worst moments."

"Experience?" Jack inquired.

"Let's say it's no fun trying to avoid the rocks at Land's End when and if you are navigating your way back to Devonport Naval Base in the middle of a European summer storm. In a frigate."

The others snorted and giggled as the Navy made a dreaded face at the memory. She sighed.

Hammond gathered his files. "Well, I guess that there are no more questions. As there are no obvious risks, you are due to leave in forty minutes. Dismissed."

SG-1 got up, its officers standing to attention. "Sir!"

* * *

_Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
SGC Embarkation Room__, Sublevel 28  
June 30__, 1998  
1958 Zulu_

In the Gateroom, SG-1 assembled for their mission. Jack noticed that Jamila was not only carrying a standard backpack, but also a small, (according to the symbols on it) waterproof container tied to the pack. "We are going for exploring and you take along your rifle. Why?"

"Huh? Oh, that. Let's say I am a bit uneasy without it." Jamila shrugged her shoulders. "I am a sniper. And it's not like this is full combat gear."

Teal'c arched an eyebrow. "What would you be wearing then, Captain Bartholomew?"

"A Japanese kodachi. That's a short sword. And a couple of knifes and a camouflage suit." She shook her head. "I am _so_ not equipped for heavy combat."

Jack grinned at the sarcastic tone of hers. "Well, I guess we just have to wait for the scientist twins."

"Not a fan of complicated matters, sir?" She pulled out her hair stick and fixated the mess again before putting a well-worn NATO-olive bandana over it.

"Nope." Sam and Daniel trotted in, chattering excitedly. "What did I tell you about being on time, Space monkey?"

"What?! JACK!" Daniel's indignation was completely ignored while Sam was fiddling with the (waterproof) bag of her laptop, murmuring techno-babble.

"Carter…" The Colonel's patience decreased by the second.

The USAF captain placed the bag into her pack and shouldered it. "I'm ready, sir."

"Right." Jack turned to General Hammond who was standing beside Harriman in the Control room, signalling the Base CO that they were ready.

Upstairs, Hammond shot a glance to the gate technician. "Dial the gate, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir." Walter activated the dialling sequence. The Stargate sprung to life. "Chevron One, encoded," his voice filtered through the Com system into the room.

"I hope that there will be no problems for a change…" Hammond murmured.

"Chevron Two, encoded." Pause. "Chevron Three, encoded."

Downstairs, Carter resumed chattering with Daniel in the same exited tone as before while Jamila was staring at the Stargate, seemingly lost in thought.

Jack eyed her. "Penny for your thoughts, Portsmouth?"

"Would not be worth it, sir. Pure randomness. I am reminiscing about the Stargate."

"Chevron Six, encoded."

"I see."

Harriman finished the dialling sequence with his characteristic "Chevron seven, locked." The »kawoosh« shot out. "Wormhole established."

The General bowed down to the microphone. "SG-1, you have a go. Godspeed."

"Well then campers, let's move out." Side by side, SG-1 stepped through the Stargate.

* * *

_PX5-932  
Stargate Area  
June 30__, 1998__  
Local Sunrise_

They came out in a forest clearing with the remains of a road heading straight to their target area. It was a clear day; the morning mist was quickly disappearing as the blue-ish white twin suns began to rise into the skies.

"Oh, fuck!" Portsmouth cursed.

"Cap?" Jack grinned casually.

"This is nearly as bad as diving in winter!" she yelled, shaking her head.

"Nearly as bad?" He knew that she spoke of the effect gate travel had on your senses until you got used to it, you felt as if you had walked into a blizzard – naked. Or dived in icy water, as the Navy put it.

"Trust me, Colonel; diving under ice is pretty bad. But, oh well, let's not dwell."

"Yasureyoubetcha." Jack took a look around. "Oh my, trees, trees, nothing but trees. Carter, how far away is the lake?" They started to walk down the road.

"Right ahead sir, less than one klick. Just outside of the forest." Sam pulled out a scanner for energy signatures. "We just have to follow this road according to the UAV. God sir, this energy source must be gigantic."

"Well then, we shouldn't keep it waiting."

"Why is that so special, Carter?" Jamila asked. "And please, simple terms… I am still a bit dizzy from the damned jetlag."

"Well ma'am, we determined that the energy source must be inactive or in some kind of standby mode, yet I get quite powerful readings here." Carter showed her the scanner display.

"Ah."

The rest of the walk was done in a mixture of silence and exited chattering. Teal'c however noticed that both Portsmouth and O'Neill acted rather similar, being constantly aware of their surroundings. They came to a halt in front of the lake.

"Wow…" Jamila stared into the water.

"What?"

"The water, sir… it's crystal-clear. If the suns rise higher, you would have a good sight into the lake. We maybe could see the bottom of it!"

"Is that important, Captain?"

Carter turned to the arguing officers. "Sir, if she is right, the water is easily drinkable."

"Ah."

"And it's easier to dive in, Colonel."

"Oh, why?"

"Let's say that at least you won't loose orientation in it that easily… and you won't stink like the godforsaken harbour afterwards."

"Jack!" Daniel had found the bridge and started working on it, standing in the middle of it. "This is amazing!"

Ignoring the archaeologist, he continued the conversation. "What was the worst you ever dived in, Portsmouth?"

She walked over to Daniel – and Sam, who was scanning the area for the energy she was searching for. "A marina in Ukraine… Usually, the rest of the answer would be classified, but…"

"…I got your uncensored file." He nodded, following her, the tall Jaffa in tow. "Anything else about it?"

"Well, afterwards I had to bathe _trice_ until that awful smell got off my skin. I still remember it. Ieww." Jamila grimaced.

"Hey guys…" Daniel interrupted. "If you two are finished sharing Black Ops stories, would you be PLEASE SO KIND TO LISTEN?!"

Jamila blinked. Jack smirked. "Is it really important for us, Daniel?" he asked casually.

Daniel made a sour face. "Well, you might not be interested in it, Jack, but this time, it's our _mission_ to find out who inhabited this place and built the bridge."

"Oh." They muttered simultaneously.

"Well, let's have a look at it." Jamila stared at the bridge and whistled. "Nice."

"In which way?" Jack asked.

"Statically. Architectural. In terms of used material. Look." She pointed to the pillars of the bridge below them. "The bridge is made of a very thin material, yet it is more than capable of supporting all of us. Also, it shows no trace of underwater plant vegetation on the pillars or a waterline."

Jack stomped on it. "Ya. And it's incredibly hard. But it doesn't sound like metal or stone."

This caught Carter's attention. She squatted down, pulling out a material scanner. "The construction of it must be incredible. But I cannot identify the material."

"Ja-ack! Captain!" Daniel's tone was close to whining.

Now it was Jamila's time to smirk. "Which captain do you mean – the one who had a boat or the one who's busy?"

"And how am I supposed to call you? Captain Bartholomew?"

"Simple. My title of courtesy. You're a civilian after all. So, which Captain, the flying-girl or the rubber duck?"

Jackson 'harrumphed' in frustration. "The bathing-tub-captain. Lady Portsmouth (note 1). After all, you _are_ an Alien."

"Damn. And I thought I could simply admire the view…" She turned her gaze to the edges of the wide, white bridge where the supposed to be writing was inlaid into the surface in a dark blue material in rather big characters. Her eyes narrowed visibly, which was noticed both by Teal'c, Daniel and Jack.

"Is something worrying you, Captain Bartholomew?" the Jaffa asked.

No answer.

"Milady?" Daniel stared at her face, only to find out that her consciousness had departed again.

Jack grinned. He knew that he was going to pay for this, but… "Attention!" he yelled, causing the military training of his team-mates to kick in. "At ease. Go on." After snapping out of the salutes, he immediately dropped the grin again, knowing it was a very bad idea, no thanks to the glares the two females sent him. "So, what's wrong, Portsmouth?"

Drawing a deep breath, Jamila shook her head with eyes closed. "Not really wrong, sir, but… I know this writing system. It's a form of Antarian. A lower form."

"WHAT!" Daniel fell on his butt, flabbergasted.

"It's a dialect." She went down on one knee, right beside the younger man. A gloved hand caressed the smooth characters. Even Sam gave up scanning the area at the new input.

"Care to explain that?" Jack had stepped closer and squatted down, between his 2IC and his resident linguist, facing his new subordinate. _'Surprise again… She's left-handed,'_ he noticed.

"Antarian is not a language in the classical sense since there are no synonyms to single meanings spoken. Its writing system consists of a combination of a classic alphabetic script and word symbols. That is why High Antarian is written only in the alphabetic writing system, it consists of terms of direct meaning instead of words encoding meaning. A dialect or lower form of Antarian is recognized by word symbols," she answered, pulling up the right corner of her mouth into half a grin.

"You mean like the Japanese kanji-kana system," it dawned to Daniel.

"Yes, a bit. Well, it's the best description I could give. I am not a linguist." She pointed at one of the characters. "That's a word symbol. They have multiple ways of being spoken and multiple meaning, usually rather close to each other. Hmm…"

"Is it possible that this place is Antarian?" Sam asked.

"Yes. But it could also be a race which had been protected by my kind. In that case they would only be using the writing system for their own language. But some of the terms/meanings are without a doubt High Antarian."

Daniel got up into a squat, taking out his camera to film everything. "If it is a dialect as you said before, could you translate it?"

"Bits of it. Like I said earlier, I still got memory problems. There is no way I could speak this dialect for instance yet. But the sentences in High terms I could easily encode. This," she pointed to a short sequence of characters followed by a long arrow-shaped symbol, "means »Welcome. Main Gate this way«, Dr Jackson."

"Wow."

Jack got up. "Well, in that case we should follow the road, shouldn't we? Guess we're off to see the wizard."

The strange procession consisting of an Special Tactics CCT (note 2) Colonel, a Royal SBS Captain, an USAF Captain, a bright-eyed archaeologist and a Jaffa didn't need to walk long. Soon they reached the island and the strange doors leading into a rocky hill, marking the entrance to the facility.

"Wow." Stepping beside her new CO, Jamila touched the doors and their frame, deep in thought. Said doors were made of a glass-like multi-coloured material in a mosaic-ish-frame, shining in the morning sun.

"Something the matter, ma'am?" Sam had her energy scanner back online.

"I have to correct myself, Carter. This place is definitely Antarian."

"How come?" Jack turned to her, curious.

"This looks like glass to you, doesn't it, sir?"

"Yes…"

"It's hyper-condensed crystalloid carbonite, stronger than the shields of a Goa'uld mothership. This is without a doubt the main entrance to this place."

"And why is that material so important for identifying this place as Antarian, Portsmouth?"

"Because this means highly advanced technology to be protected." She grinned. "Tons of doohickeys for our dear astrophysicist. But first we have to find a way in."

Jack approached the doors and tried to open them manually. "Locked. Damn." He took a look around. "And no opening mechanism when you need one."

Daniel however was more interested in the walls of polished rock beside the doors. "Milady… there is more writing here…"

"Let me see." Jamila brushed away some long vines which grew down the wall from above. "Well, sir, if you need a last proof that this place is Antarian, here it is. Do you have a brush or something like that, Dr Jackson?"

"Yes, here. Why…"

Jamila snatched the big brush out of his hands and cleaned the wall so that even more characters became visible. "Thank you, Jackson. Everyone, have a look." She waved them closer. "This is a welcome message. In High Antarian. The whole text here is in High Antarian."

"Can you read it?" Daniel asked eagerly.

"No problem. It says: »De-ra'iya neshe Raquia Ashura«…"

Jack froze. He had understood what she had said! But this was an alien tongue… how… As if a voice had spoken in his head with a crystal-clear meaning. Out of a reflex, he translated, "Welcome to the City of Ashura."

Needless to say that everyone was speechless. Finally, Jamila spoke. "This is correct, sir. This writing is a very respectful and friendly version of »Welcome to the City of Ashura«." She eyed him. "You must be a very good listener."

This broke the ice. "And what has that to do with me understanding High Antarian?!" he snapped.

Gritting her teeth, Jamila suddenly clutched her head as if she had a headache. "Ouch… stupid flashbacks…" She sneezed into her hands. Briefly sticking her left into her pocket, she answered, "High Antarian is a form of Tongue-speak, Colonel, sir. I am not really good in it yet, so only a very good listener or someone who speaks the tongue can understand me. If my skill in it would be greater, I could speak to everyone without misunderstanding, at least in theory. That's what the last flashback said." The Navy exhaled audibly and shook her head. "Hence the assumption that you are a very good listener."

The following silence was interrupted by Daniel's annoyed comment. "Wait a sec… Jack is actually a good listener? He usually almost dozes off when I try to tell him something!"

"Hmm… but I bet he always manages to condense everything you science twins say into a few simple sentences, marking him as a good listener." She sighed. Understanding High Antarian with and/or without instruction was nearly a philosophical concept which needed a hefty amount of intuition, like Jack's instincts. "Also, »listening« is not about facts but meanings."

"I don't get it." Daniel's confused expression was a picture worthy of a god.

"And that is why you cannot understand." Again, the Antarian shook her head.

Teal'c spoke up. "As I was still the First Prime of Apophis, I heard that the Antarians refer to great listeners who are not of their own kind as »selected«."

Jamila made an annoyed, sour face. "It is »gifted« or »chosen«, Teal'c."

Teal'c just rose on of his eyebrows. "My apologies."

"Acceptable."

Jack sighed. "All right…"

"A bit too much intel, sir?" the Navy asked in a low, slightly worried voice.

He scratched his head and turned around, facing the doors again. "Not really, and anyway, we got a problem. If these doors are as impenetrable as you say, we won't get in."

In the meantime, Sam had started to examine said doors. "How can we be sure it's not glass, ma'am?"

Instead of answering, Jamila pulled out her standard issue SIG (note 3), aimed at the gates and pulled the trigger. The bullet bounced off the material without even leaving a scratch.

"Whoa!" Carter stumbled back.

"Any other questions, Carter?" she replied calmly.

Sam could feel her face heat up oh so slightly. "No ma'am."

"Anyway, you are right, sir. We will not get into this place this way. But since it's Antarian, there are some things we, sorry, I know about it."

"Which are?"

"General structure. According to the last flashback in here," she pointed at her forehead, "each Antarian facility has numerous entrances, but each of them is heavily guarded or protected by nature itself. This main entrance is of the first type, protected by the equivalent of Mark XII security doors. Most likely, they cannot be opened from the outside normally."

"And what is the second type of entrance in this case, Captain Bartholomew?" Teal'c spoke up, to everyone's surprise.

"Are you familiar with Antarian designs, Teal'c?" she questioned.

He inclined his head. "I heard stories from my old mentor, Master Bra'tac. Your kind tends to use natural strategic advantages to a degree which is beyond the understanding of even the Goa'uld. You are also said to be knowledgeable in the ways of controlling nature."

"Correct. Anyway, this facility's other entrance should be very difficult to use without the right equipment if it's not a shot too far where I think it is."

"Portsmouth…" Jack made his best Colonel-impression. "What are we actually searching for?"

Jamila pulled up her right corner of her mouth again into another half-grin. "The side entrance, Colonel." She sounded not a bit intimidated, but something like respect was dancing in her eyes as she answered.

"And where should we search?"

"Well, let's try the island for starters. We are in the middle of a lake. The secondary security entrances are as sure as hell under water. Hence the remark about equipment."

"Why do I have the feeling there is a 'but'?"

"_But_ the island is a solid limestone rock, which could be easily washed out by water. I am positive that we may find some caves which could lead inside. Hell, the whole rock could be full of holes, just like a sponge."

"And if there is no other way in, Portsmouth?" he asked impatiently.

The next expression, a mean and smug grin of the tall Swimmer Canoeist had to be placed between challenging and nearly overconfident. "Trust me, sir. There is _always_ another way."

"Right…" he dragged out the word for emphasis.

Sam's face lit up. "Sir, she's right, we should try it."

"_Carter_!"

"I told you about that stinking marina, sir. I learned this rule there … after all, I went in through a sewer pipe."

"Ouch. Well then, campers, let's move out."

The others at SG-1 were used to have already one cynic, sarcastic Black Ops officer, but the next remark of the sniper threw them off, making clear that she fell into the same category as the former TACP (note 4). "I _love_ camping (note 5)," she quipped. They stared at her in disbelieve. "What? I am a sniper."

Jack snorted, remembering what that meant as they moved out. "What was the longest you had to remain in the same area?"

"Three weeks. Afterwards, I did not only _look_ like a fucking bush, but also _smelled_ like one…" She shook her head. "As I said, I _love_ camping," she stated in a sing-song tone.

He snorted again. "Carter, you're with me. Portsmouth, stick to Daniel and Teal'c."

"Sir!" They split up.

Teal'c and Daniel followed the Sniper who started to roam the area. "What are we actually searching for, Milady?" the younger man asked.

"Stairs," was her only reply. The first cave they found proved to be a dead end. "Well, one cannot always be lucky, huh?"

"So, what do you think of this Navy, Carter?" Jack asked casually as they searched cave number-you-know-not-anymore, resulting in another dead end. He examined the crumbled wall in front of him. "Looks like the Antarians don't like intruders, this one was bombed closed."

"Honestly, sir? I don't know." Sam contemplated the last few hours, what she had seen of the Captain. "She is certainly a highly skilled soldier, but we yet have to see what she can do actually… or if she is trustable, sir."

"I think we will see it soon enough." He shrugged and left the tunnel, Carter at his heels. Suddenly, his radio cracked. "Jack, this is Daniel, do you copy?"

"I'm here, Space monkey. What's up?" _"When would this man learn __not__ to use names in a radio transmission,"_ Jack wondered.

He could nearly see Daniel roll his eyes as he answered, "Lady Portsmouth says that she might have found something and you should have a look."

"But?"

"Well, I certainly don't know what she thinks is here but she insists that she found something. We are in a cave ca half a klick straight to the left from the main entrance, in the middle of a clearing."

"We're on our way." Going around the hill, he took out a pair of binoculars, scanning the area for the others. "Let's see what you are made of, little Briton…"

Carter snorted at the comment. Sure, the Colonel was with his 6' 1 ½" all but short, nevertheless Lady Portsmouth towered him by estimated three-and-a-half inches, making Carter herself with 5' 9" looking a bit short in comparison. "I don't know if she likes to be referred to as little, sir."

He grinned. "I know. Ah, over there… at one o'clock." He pointed into the aforementioned direction to a clearing where Teal'c and his staff weapon were standing out like a lighthouse in a desert. Quickly, the two soldiers made their way towards the other part of their group.

"Teal'c! So, what do you have?"

"I assume that you should ask this question Captain Bartholomew, O'Neill," the Jaffa answered.

"And where is she? And where is Space monkey, as we are already at the questions," he queried, looking around.

"Down here, sir!" a voice called from his right. Surprised, Jack turned towards the source of the words, which came out of a big hole in an even bigger, slightly elevated rock.

"Portsmouth?" Jack stepped into the cave, reuniting the team. In front of him, Jamila was sitting on her heels in front of a deep pool of water, Daniel right beside her.

She turned to him, smirking. "I found it, sir. This is the way in."

Jack made a sour, disappointed grimace. "Portsmouth… this is a lake."

Her smile did _not_ waver. "To you maybe. But I learnt how to read tracks in water a long time ago."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow, interested. "When has that been?"

"I was 22… and knew nothing of the world," was the sighed answer. The cheery grin was gone. "Anyway, this is our entrance."

"Portsmouth… this is a lake!" Jack repeated, irritated.

"To you maybe. Stop being all out at sea (note 6)." Shuffling through her pack, she pulled out a small package and got up. "I am not going to tell you something you could tell the marines (note 7). Watch." From the insides of the parcel, she fished out a magnesium torch, ignited it and threw it into the pool. Afterwards, she placed the box back into her backpack. She pointed at the pond featuring the biggest, meanest and most self-satisfied smirk Sam had ever seen on a face, save for the Colonel, no thanks to the collective gasps Jamila earned of the others who were staring at the pool. Under the surface of the cool green water which was illuminated by the eerie light of the torch were a couple of steps leading downwards clearly visible. "I present you…" she made an artistic pause, "the emergency escape hatch."

SG-1 stood there, doing the goldfish-in-the-bowl thing, speechless. Finally, after what Jack estimated to be a couple of minutes, he remarked, "I see your point, Portsmouth, but it is still a pool. We cannot get in this way."

Jamila faced her CO and shook her head, grinning. "Well, you cannot. _I_ can." She pointed to her right sleeve where under the badge of SG-1 was not the badge of the USAF (like usually, unless you counted SG-3 and 5, the Jarheads (note 8)), but a White Ensign (the sign of the RN) and the badge of the SBS: The sword and the waves.

Jack sighed, seeing her point. "Any ideas, Navy?"

"Well, we are supposed to report back in a few hours anyway, or am I mistaken?"

"So?"

She headed for the entrance of the cave. "My idea is, we'll return now, get our supplies, our secondary gear and my amphibious combat stuff, come back to the cave, I'll dive in and open the doors from the inside."

"Of what is that gear of yours consisting?"

Jamila took some kind of tracker on a telescope stick out of her pack and stuck it into the earth outside the cave. "Well, the standard issue SBS diving combat gear, a Halligan-tool (note 9) and diving cable." She manipulated some device on her right wrist where a left-handed usually would wear his/her watch and the tracker activated. "Or what do you think, Colonel?"

"_By strength and guile_ _(note 10__), huh,"_ he marvelled. _"Sounds fitting, at least in her case."_ Knowing she had a point, he smiled. "Well, in that case, we shouldn't keep General Hammond waiting. Is that one a tracker or something?"

"Partly. With these," she pointed first to the device on the pole and then to the one on her wrist, "I can find this place blind and deaf. And watch the area for a radius of 75 metres. Nothing fancy though, just some kind of radar."

"Ah. Well, as I said before, let's not keep the General waiting. Let's move campers. To the Gate."

After another walk back to the Stargate, Sam dialled Earth, with Jamila murmuring the glyphs, "Auriga, Cetus, Centaurus, Cancer, Scutum, Eridanus (note 11), and Lan."

"Lan, Milady?" Daniel asked, mildly surprised.

Jamila shot him a quick glance. "High Antarian for Point of origin. Short form of Lanes (note 12)."

Jack hammered his personal code into his GDO. "Receiving confirmation signal. We have a go." They stepped through the gate.

On Earth again, they quickly explained the predicament to the General, and that Portsmouth's full combat gear would be the key to gain entry to the place. After some arguments, Jamila packed her stuff together with some other supplies on a FRED (note 13), and off they were again.

* * *

PX5-932  
_Great Bridge of Ashura  
June 30__, 1998  
Local Noon_

Sam stared in disbelief at all the boxes the Swimmer Canoeist had packed before. "With due respect ma'am, what is all this stuff, for crying out loud?"

Jamila grinned as she steered the FRED towards the island. "Well, my diving combat suit of course, a pair of flippers, a mask and snorkel, lead weights, protective headgear and gloves, diving shoes, diving computer, a couple of knifes, a diving flashlight, a maintenance kit, a customized Buddy Inspiration© rebreather by Ambient Pressure (note 14), trimix (note 15) diluent, oxygen, a Halligan-tool and diving cable. But now… This way."

Sam was speechless as they followed her.

Lead by the signal of the tracker, SG-1 stood soon in front of the elusive emergency escape hatch, and set up camp. Jack noticed however that Portsmouth didn't eat, or at least not one of the standard issue MREs. Instead, she pulled out a boxed sandwich and downed it in a few quick bites, washed down by some water.

"Are you not going to eat properly, Portsmouth?"

"I still have to dive in, sir. Same rules as if you go swimming."

"Ah." Of course he knew that. But what had surprised him was the fact she didn't eat an MRE. "But why no MRE?"

"I lived on standard commissary food for nearly three years at my last command, on-shores not included. I don't need more of that right now, sir." She filed the box away and stood up. "I am going to get changed now. That may take a while. And if I catch anyone but Carter watching, you will have a knife against your throat before you can say sailing." She went into one of the tents, dragging along one of the boxes.

"And there goes our diver." Jack's remark left the other humans of the team chuckling, even if he couldn't really share the feeling. _"She was not joking back then. I guess it has something to do with being the first woman in that job and being exposed,"_ he concluded. _"Not that she would be really vulnerable, with the UK equivalent of a Level Four advanced plus expertise in hand-to-hand. Hmm… I'd really like to challenge her to a spar when we return…"_

His train of thought was cut short by a greatly differently dressed Swimmer Canoeist, now in full combat gear minus some parts of her diving gear, which he suspected to be in the other boxes. And oh, what a combat gear that was (!), or rather what a hell of a woman she was! The black, shimmering diving combat suit hugged her tall and athletic figure tightly, accentuating her–

"Would you mind stop ogling, gentlemen?" she demanded, a mildly irritated smile on her face.

"Sorry Portsmouth." Jack answered hastily. It was not like he was interested, after all she was married and that screamed »taboo« to his Irish Catholic mind, but heck, he had eyes! And it seemed that the rest of the married (!) males on the team thought so too (though it was a hard job to tell in Teal'c's case). Daniel was close to drooling and the Jaffa's look was a little too interested. "Snap out of it, Daniel!" he ordered in his best CO-voice.

"What?"

Jamila's irritation was easily replaced by sarcasm. "Gentlemen… It's not that I do _not_ feel flattered by the fact that I still can knock grown men and seasoned warriors off their boots with my mere appearance, even in a specialized amphibious combat suit, but I am uncertain if my husband would appreciate it!"

All Sam could do not to embarrass the seasoned Navy was keeping her laughter inside. _"Guess I know now why she uses laughing abbreviations on signs. Time to change subject."_ Sam cleared her throat. "Ma'am, what is that suit made of? I have never seen something like it before."

The ex-skipper (note 16) shot her a grateful look. "One of the first reverse-engineered pieces of Antarian technology I created, a shot-proof, 100 percent pollution-proof, 100 percent element-proof and super-flexible thermodynamic multi-environment layered combat suit. Outer skin is fibre carbonite."

"Wow. What's 'Element-proof'?"

"Fire, water, wind, lightning, earth energy attacks, like Antarians use, or attacks with a flame thrower for example. Also means 'environment proof'. We had no other idea how to call it. And 'super-flexible thermodynamic' means that no-one has to change out of it for on-shore combat."

Now Sam was in her element. "How long did it take until it was reverse-engineered?"

"Ten years too long, too late," the combat diver sighed.

"Too late?" Jack asked, curious.

"That stinking marina I told you of, it was heavily polluted. Three of my team back then are dead by now, pollution poisoning and another one is suffering cancer. If I was not what I am, it would have been my demise too." She shook her head. "But now I believe we have some business to attend." Walking back to the FRED, Jamila pulled down another two boxes from its platform… and suddenly, there was no Captain Bartholomew anymore.

"Ma'am?" Carter and the others went around the vehicle to find only the boxes from earlier, one of them open. "Whoa–!"

"Down here, Carter!" A hand shot up from out of the open box winking at them.

"What the hell–" SG-1 stared down into the supposed-to-be-box and with that into a »room« supposedly the size of General Hammond's office. Sam estimated it to be ca eight feet high.

"Welcome to my storage closet. Try not to fall inside, I would have problems getting you all out." Seeing her team-mates' confused faces, the Antarian snorted. "Is it really so hard to believe?"

"What are you doing in there, Portsmouth? And what is _that_, for crying out loud?" The confused Colonel pointed at the super-box.

"Alien surprise No 6 today, »The box-room«, also known as »The Super-Box«, sir. An artificial dimension in a box. Size depends on the available energy source, in this case 2.5³m³. Use: Multi-object transport. Since they are still too expensive and impractical however – in short, still experimental – my government rather uses the old-fashioned ways of transporting objects."

"Why impractical? This could be a huge advancement in technology and logistics!" Sam exclaimed, falling into science-mode again.

"The only things you can transport without problems yet in it are books, paper. Anything else with a higher density costs too much power with a conventional energy source. And about your second question Colonel, I was searching for some books for Dr Jackson so he might have a look at the Antarian language. Stand back, I am coming up." The others had barely time to step back as the Briton burst out of the box and landed catlike, a couple of books under her arm. "Here Doctor, have fun."

"Great. Just what Danny-boy needs: more books to clutter his office with…" Jack muttered under his breath.

"Not so pessimistic, sir, look at this." One of the book titles read »Antarian for Idiots«.

Jack laughed.

Daniel took the books scowling. "Why, thank you Milady. And by the way, how do you keep the books from falling over?"

"In a 'normal' Super-Box you would need restrictions to save energy, but this one is 100 percent alien tech, so it's an energy field which generates artificial gravity." She closed it with a swift kick and picked up the other one, dragging it towards the cave. "We should go. Please follow me, sir."

"You heard her. Everyone, move," Jack ordered.

Inside, SG-1 watched in a mixture of confusion and awe Jamila doing a check-up of her diving equipment in highest military precision. "Energy, check; controls," she pressed some buttons on the wrist device and inserted a chip into it, "check. Air… Air!" Opening the back of a grey-and-black box with several tubes and cables on it she had set on the floor, she inserted two gas cylinders into the box, the one marked with O2 to the right, the Trimix cylinder to the left and secured them. Testing pressure, she mumbled, "Air, check." She locked the waterproof cover of the box back into its place. Afterwards, she put the lead weights into the pockets of the harness belts of the box. "Rebreather ready, check. Lead, check. Flippers, check."

Sam got a bit closer, curious if the weathered frogwoman had more technological surprises for them and remembered a remark she had made earlier as they re-set foot on the planet. "Is that the rebreather, Ma'am?" she asked, pointing at the grey-ish black box which held the gas tanks.

"Aye, why do you ask? Submarine flashlight, check." She didn't look up.

"You said something about it being customized."

"Aye…"

The theoretical astrophysicist stared at it, puzzled and intrigued. "How? It doesn't look like any other I haven't seen before."

Jamila rose to her feet, unfolding her full height and turning around. "Because the _normally purchasable_ Inspiration is screaming yellow, Captain Carter. Every idiot can see you with _that_ on your back in the water. If I was carrying that on my back, I simply could put a target plaque around my neck and yell »Come on, shoot me«! No, no, no. I had to get one which was about as grey as a battle ship. And unfortunately, that stupid paint is not designed to stay on under water. I had to get the godforsaken Pantone colour code and send it back to Ambience Pressure Diving Limited for customization. And afterwards I put in some alien technology, mainly more sophisticated controls and interface. Customized enough, Captain Carter?" She put the box on like a backpack and fastened the harness belts.

Jack did his best so not to smirk, clap and give catcalls. Portsmouth had managed something only he himself usually could do, render the science twins speechless. Finally, Sam answered uncomfortably, "Yes, ma'am."

"Fine." She turned back to her equipment. "Knifes, check." She wrapped the three belts which held multiple knifes each around her left ankle and her right upper arm and forearm. "Halligan-tool, check. Extendable lightning rod, check. Waterproof radio, check." The tools found their way onto a utility belt on her hipline with a few skilled, well-studied moves. The last thing she picked up was a spool filled with a neon-yellow cable on which hung small white reflecting tapes in regular gaps.

"What's that?" Daniel and Jack asked simultaneously.

She shot them a glance. "Dr Jackson, why do you not make good use of the books and have a look at the writing of the main gates? It would be worth your time. This here will take a while. Sir," she turned around and handed the bewildered Colonel the loose end of the cable, "this is Diving cable. It is literally my safety line, my ticket to find my way back to the surface."

"What am I supposed to do with it?" he wondered aloud.

She smiled. "I know you do not really trust me sir, but I give it a shot and trust _you_ with my _life_. Under normal circumstances my Spotter/buddy would hold unto it; in case I get lost under water, I follow the line and get back to the surface safely before I drown. I want _you_ to hold it, Colonel O'Neill, sir."

Jack stared at her wide-eyed. It was a more than just a bold gesture; it was a way of telling him that she placed confidence in his ability to command and keep his team safe. Slowly, very slowly her actions started to make sense to him. "You will not be disappointed, Lord Portsmouth. No matter what I may think of you, I do not leave people behind… and I try my best to let no-one get killed. Let's do it." He smiled inwardly, knowing that she was another believer in the saying _actions speak louder than words_. Grabbing the line firmly, he ordered, "Daniel, go for the main gate and do your studies, Teal'c, you are with him."

The archaeologist did not have to be told twice and sprinted out of the cave, new books in arms and the big Jaffa right at him.

Grinning, Jamila clipped the spool into its place on the belt. "Diving cable…"

"Check." Jack answered, sporting the same expression. "I guess it will take quite some time."

"Correct. Why do you not sit down and make yourself a bit more comfortable?" Gesturing at the cave opening, two foldable chairs flew into the cave, ready to be used.

"Thank you, ma'am," "Thanks," they murmured as they sat down.

The flippers in hand, Jamila shuffled over to the stairs. "I'll better be going for now. My call sign is »Tempest«, and if it is not too rude, you are »Life Line«, sir." She waded into the cool water, attaching her flashlight to her left forearm. "See you later."

Putting on the hood, mask and gloves and placing the mouthpiece between her teeth, she saluted crisply and disappeared noiselessly under the surface.

"Well, now all we have to do is waiting." Jack leaned back. _"Where have I heard that Call sign before, I wonder…?"_

"Obviously sir." Sam turned her chair so that it faced the cave entrance. "I'll take watch."

"All right."

Nearly half an hour later, Jack's radio cracked. "Life line, this is Tempest, do you copy?"

O'Neill pressed the button. "Loud and clear, Tempest. What is it?"

"I found the Power house. Its entry was 15 storeys below you, at 45 metres, and it reaches down to Level 30. The room is surprisingly not flooded, and the water is kept out with a force field. Funnily though, I could walk through it without harm. I suppose it only keeps out the water. A hydrostatic force field, sir… anyway, Carter was right. The power in the facility, hell, in the whole city is in standby-mode–"

"Wait a sec, did you just say »_city_«, Tempest?"

"Yes sir. If I read the schemata right, this island houses the central building of a whole frigging city built on the lake floor. It also contains the power main frame control. That would explain the welcome messages on the bridge and the main entrance."

"Wow. By the way, what the hell are you doing down there? I thought you wanted to open the main doors."

"Sir, maybe…" Sam turned to the conversation and pressed her own radio. "Tempest, the doors are linked to a security system, aren't they?"

"Exactly. And according to the schemata, nothing in this facility will work with the power on standby. Hell, I had to utilize a combo of the Halligan-tool and my psychokinesis to open that escape hatch. And if the zero-gravity-elevator platforms would have been online, I wouldn't have made it to the power main frame at all." A sigh came through. "Damn it."

Sam, hungry for information, pressed on. "Is this the only power source in the city, Tempest?"

"No. There are fourteen smaller ones in the whole city. But they can be controlled from here. Anyway, I shall just restore the energy, afterwards, I am going to dive upstairs and open the doors for you."

Jack took over again. "This is Life line, Tempest. What is your general status?"

"I still got more than six hours worth of air, Life line. And more than enough cable to make it to the surface. Anyway, thanks to the power room, I also found some kind of route map of this place. If I just go up the elevator shaft I took for the way down here, I shall end up at a corridor to the main entrance hall. From there, I think I can provide you entry. Awaiting orders, Life line," sounded the answer.

Jack weighted the intel he had. If she would activate the power and could open the doors, they would have access to a whole frigging _city_ (!) of alien technology! But if it didn't work, it could be that she would even drown in there. "Tempest, is there no other way to open the doors than activating the power house and diving internally?"

"Negative, Life line. Sorry. The whole facility is teleport-proof somehow."

"_I still don't like it, but… After all, it was her idea,"_ he thought. He activated his radio again. "Confirmed, Tempest. Proceed as you suggested and report in after you successfully accessed the entrance hall."

"All right. See you soon." The contact died.

* * *

PX5-932  
_Main Gate of Ashura City Control  
_June 30_, 1998  
Local Afternoon_

At the main gate (and after admitting to himself that it was a lot more complicated/difficult than any other language he learnt before), Daniel was trying to make some good use of »Antarian for Idiots« which turned out to be a beginner's/intermediate's learner's book, beginning with the simple yet complex writing system of the Antarians. Another one turned out to be some kind of dictionary. "Amazing."

"What is it, Daniel Jackson?"

"According to these books and to what I am seeing on these walls, Lady Portsmouth's description is a simplified but accurate summary of what the Antarian script is composed. Five vocals, twenty-one consonants like the Latin alphabet, and thousands of word signs. But it seems that I will have a hard time with learning to actually understand it."

"Why is this so?"

"I do not really know, seriously. Even the most sophisticated one of these books is extremely easy to understand. I should be able to learn it in no time!" He was frustrated and tugging his hair as he continued, "Yet I do not understand the concept of this language. And I have the feeling that is why Jack understands instinctively and I don't."

"It does not seem like O'Neill was aware of this special talent of his before," Teal'c reminded him.

"I know." Daniel sighed. "Well, ranting won't do me any good, so I guess I should at least clean the text and tape it so that I may eventually learn it." He pulled out his set of brushes and other cleaning utensils.

"Indeed."

SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1

PX5-932  
_Emergency Escape Hatch of Ashura City Control  
June 30__, 1998  
Local Afternoon_

"Sir, why do you trust her?" Carter suddenly asked, turning a bit to her CO. It had been ca. 5 minutes after the last contact with the diver.

Jack shook his head. "It's not that I trust _her_, but… I trust her ability to do _this_. I read her file. Last time I read something like that, it was my own. And as I said before, I leave no-one behind, and like hell I am going to let her drown in there by betraying her trust in _me_," he finished, holding up the yellow cable for emphasis. _"Also, there is the issue with her call sign…"_

"Oh–" a slight vibration shook the floor, causing miniscule waves which rippled the surface of the pool. Some kind of energy washed over them, travelling further. "What the hell…" Sam pressed the radio button before Jack could even react. "Life line station here, Tempest. What was that just now? Everything was shaking."

"Power is online, Life line. What you experienced was the energy surge from the reset. I thought you ought to know. I am going to ascend to the surface now."

Jack took over again before his 2IC could bomb the diver with techno-babble. "Confirmed, Tempest. See you soon."

"Definitely, Life Line. Tempest out."

"Another question, Carter?" he smirked.

The woman in question turned back to her self-appointed guard duty so he couldn't see the faint, embarrassed blush on her cheeks. "No sir."

"_Right…"_ he thought, grinning from ear to ear.

DeepBlueSea DeepBlueSea DeepBlueSea DeepBlueSea DeepBlueSea

"_Okay __Jamila, you can do this…"_ Diving alone had certainly its perks, but the Number One disadvantage was and continued to be being alone with your thoughts and the only outside help being the diving cable. Following it, she had found the elevator shaft – actually just big elliptic holes in the floor/ceiling – quickly and now made a controlled ascension. _"At least I do not need the flashlight anymore. They forgot to turn off the light… If I would have been on-shore, that would be worth a snort at least,"_ she thought. _"Time for another Deco-stop."_ Usually, deco-stops, short for decompression stop which help the diver cleaning his body of inert (nitrogen) gas, took several minutes of staying in a specific water depth and getting used to the surrounding water pressure. Jamila however simply cleansed her body with the help of her own energy, which only needed two minutes, a break included. _"And then William wonders why my comrades are envious of these abilities. Well, here we go again…"_ She glanced at the holographic display of her wrist device. She had downloaded the facility plans into the small computer._ "Just another 30 metres… ten stops… Ashura, here I come…"_

SGCSGCSGCSGCSGCSGC

Meanwhile…

"Why does it take so long, sir?"

"Carter, what do you know about diving in deep water?" the Colonel asked absentmindedly, staring into the pool.

"Not much," she admitted. "I know that it can be dangerous."

"Carter, if she would swim too fast towards the surface, she _will_ get decompression sickness. In the worst-case-scenario she will die of it. Water pressure goes up by 1 bar atm (note 17) all ten metres you descend, if I read that here right."

"You're cheating!" she exclaimed as he held up the Diver's Manual of the RN. "Where–"

"It was in the equipment box. At least it's more interesting as the RoE (note 18)."

"Oh? How?" she snapped.

He grinned. "There are more pictures in it."

Sam sighed in frustration and returned to guard duty. That man had nerves.

Their companionable silence was broken by the sound of the radio after another round of waiting for you-don't-know-how-long. "Life line, this is Tempest, do you copy?"

Jack snapped out of his relaxed posture and went into full CO-mode. "Life line here, Tempest, I copy you. Status."

"I reached surface. My suggestion is that you pack our bags and come to the doors, I even found quarters in here. Only the corridors were flooded it seems."

"Nice. Anything else?"

"I found the Main control interface. Obviously the city defines »standby« different than humans. It was running on 15 power output, maintaining air circulation, hydrostatic force fields, security and – unbelievable – water purification. The whole lake is kept as pure as a freshwater. If you need something to drink, sir, it's right there. Anyway, as soon as you all are ready, I'll let you in."

He shot his 2IC a glance. She nodded and began to close the boxes. "Understood Tempest. We break camp and meet you in fifteen minutes. Over."

"Confirmed Life line. Tempest over and out."

* * *

**Notes**

1 Daniel studied in London, so he knows how to refer to a member of the Nobility.

2 Standard sidearm of the UK Armed Forces, the Sig Sauer P226

3 CCT: Combat Control Team Combat Controller. The »Combat Control Team« is part of the Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC) who does the main job of Special Operations on the behalf of the Air Force, including pathfinder duties like exploration and search-and-rescue.

4 TACP Tactical Air Controlling Party. Part of the USAF which coordinates Air Force with Army. Many of the members of Air Force Special Operations Command (AFSOC) are recruited from there since they usually have more Ground and Air-to-Ground combat expertise than normal Air Force.

5 Quote from »Command and Conquer: Red Alert Two«, a statement given when the British special unit, the sniper, is given a command. Reference to the fact that a sniper often stays for many days or even weeks in the field for the sake of securing areas and camouflage.

6 All at Sea: Nautical term for a state of confusion and disorder.

7 "tell it to the marines": A scornful response to a tall and unbelievable story. Stems from the very old believe of seamen that marines are rather gullible/stupid (a belief shared by the Air Force).

8 US Marines are known as Jarheads for their »empty heads« and jar-like standard military haircut.

9 Halligan-tool: Special, multi-purpose form of a crowbar named after its creator. Also known as Halligan bar. Usually found in fire fighting and professional fields.

10 »By Strength and guile«: Motto of the SBS, RN.

11 In Professional Astronomy, the Latin names of the Constellations are used to ensure internationality.

12 Vocals in High Antarian are spoken/read like in German and/or Italian.

13 FRED: Field Remote Expeditionary Device. Big robot platform with eight wheels and a com device which can move in most terrains. Used for carrying supplies and various other purposes.

14 Ambient Pressure Diving Limited. Visit apdiving(dot)com for info on the rebreather system Inspiration.

15 Trimix: Diver term. Means of a mix three gases for the rebreather, consisting of Helium, Nitrogen and Oxygen in this case used as diluent gas.

16 Skipper: CO of a Navy Military Unit aka a boat/vessel. Not necessarily a Captain.

17 Bar atm: Barometer Atmosphere. Pressure measure unit. 1 bar atm equals 0 m water depth and the pressure of Earth's atmosphere at 0 m above mean sea level.

18 RoE: Rules of Engagement. Extremely important set of rules on the issue if, when and how to use force, especially for officers (yet extremely boringly written). See the wikipedia article on the RoE for further information.

* * *

**AN: BTW I created a font for High Antarian, look: kamikashi (dot) deviantart**** (dot) ****com / art / Font-High-Antarian-94771384**


	3. Episode 1,5: Waters Calming down Pt 2

Waters calming down Pt 2

**Disclaimer: I wish I was MGM, Roland Emmerich, Sony E, and all these other cool guys so the stupid SJ DJ innuendos would stop and Stargate would throw us a curve ball for shipper's sake. Since I'm not all these people, I have to write this weird Alternate Timeline (not AU!) story - I own Jamila and her merry bunch of ****weirdoes.**

**AN: I'm gonna die. I started learning Japanese a while ago, and the vocabulary is killing me.**

**Summary/Teaser: SG-1 discovers an Antarian city and needs to fend off a scout unit of Nirrti's Jaffa. Sniper Warning ahead! If you don't like snipers, don't read!**

**

* * *

**_**Last time on Stargate: Assiah.  
**__Their companionable silence was broken by the sound of the radio after another round of waiting for you-don't-know-how-long. "Life line, this is Tempest, do you copy?"_

_Jack snapped out of his relaxed posture and went into full CO-mode. "Life line here, Tempest, I copy you. Status."_

"_I reached surface. My suggestion is that you pack our bags and come to the doors, I even found quarters in here. Only the corridors were flooded it seems."_

"_Nice. Anything else?"_

"_I found the Main control interface. Obviously the city defines »standby« different than humans. It was running on 15% power output, maintaining air circulation, hydrostatic force fields, security and – unbelievable – water purification. The whole lake is kept as pure as a freshwater. If you need something to drink, sir, it's right there. Anyway, as soon as you all are ready, I'll let you in."_

_He shot his 2IC a glance. She nodded and began to close the boxes. "Understood Tempest. We break camp and meet you in fifteen minutes. Over."_

"_Confirmed Life line. Tempest over and out."_

* * *

PX5-939  
Main Gate of Ashura City Control  
June 30, 1998  
Late Afternoon

Just as Daniel finished filming the walls around the door, SG-1 minus diver was reunited. "Had some fun Space monkey?"

Whirling around and twisting his eyebrows, Daniel fumed, "Jack!"

Jack however noticed that his friend was using »Antarian for Idiots«. "Oh my. I didn't know Dr Daniel Jackson, resident Archaeologist and Linguist Genius of Stargate Command had a problem with–"

"Tongue-speech," a voice behind them sounded.

Surprised, the group turned around to face Jamila, who stood in the open doors of the facility. "I however am not surprised, and neither are you, are you not sir."

"_You_ are full of surprises, Portsmouth, but you are right. Somehow I knew… Is it not to great a shot to say it is for the same reasons I actually understand this whole… thing?"

"Concept, yes, that is correct. But why do you not come in, everyone? The suns are going to set soon." She waved them in.

Jack steered the FRED through the doors into a _really_ spacious entrance hall, following the Swimmer Canoeist with the others right at his heels. He whistled. "Nice."

"Yeah, my kind used to live in style it seems."

Sam visually scanned the room. Several filigree pillars connected floor and ceiling. "Looks kind of organic. As if it was grown."

"True enough, but we come to this later. This way please." She lead them to a circular room with three chairs made of the same seemingly organic crystalloid material as the pillars in the entrance hall and the bridge outside which were attached to the floor, and a big round platform in the middle made of the same material. Her diving gear was lying on the floor next to one of the chairs. "Welcome to the Raquia Ashura Control System Mainframe."

The walls of the room were partly made of the same material as the pillars and the chairs, but were multicoloured like the gates. "Nice design," Jack remarked. "What's that?" he pointed at the platform.

Jamila grinned. "Watch. That's _so_ cool…" Light-footed, she stepped on the platform and levitated above it in a sitting position, feet hanging just centimetres above it. At the same time, a virtual, holographic chair formed around her and multiple displays looking like being made of nothing but pure light formed half a circle around her. The platform rose from the floor until it floated a good foot above ground level, together with its occupant. "_This_ is the Mainframe's Main interface."

The silence which followed was like the old saying about hearing a pin drop.

Finally, Carter's »Dr Carter«-mode kicked in. "Amazing! How does it work? What can you do with it?"

"Did I not tell you that I have no idea how that actually works?"

"I thought you meant only your computer."

"No. Or to be more precise, Carter, I cannot explain how I am able to do that. I was always technopathic, but since I turned into an Antarian I am a _real_ technopath. Anyway, this is a neural interface, designed to be used by a technopath – also known as an Antarian."

"Technopath?" the team asked bewildered.

"Someone who understands and controls technology intuitively with his respective her mind. In theory, the greatest technopaths are able to operate ANY technology without instruction, and before you ask, I am not all _that_ good… I still cannot use a flat iron properly." She grimaced.

Jack snorted. "I guess that one is for you something from hell… anyway, what can this place do?"

"First, getting out all the water and getting the security systems running… oh…"

"What's wrong?" Sam's eager voice resounded in the chamber.

"Well, I guess I know now why I created such a vast data storage device in my lab, Dr Jackson, Captain Carter, sir."

"Why?" Sam wondered.

"The AI is missing. Looks like my kind took away the core data and the AI brain core, which runs the self-operating maintenance system, leaving only a basic operating system in the extern crystal computer core. Also, most of the Research data is gone. Hmm…"

Daniel wandered in circles around the interface platform. "So what is this place then? I had problems with translating."

"It was a research outpost and a colony. A city. Named Ashura… and the name of the planet is actually Antea. Care to translate, sir?"

Jack shuddered internally, and not only because of his new-found talent. The long, wet hair of the diver floated in the air as if she was under water in a shining, dark _cobalt-blue_ ponytail. "You know, this whole thing still freaks me out, Portsmouth, but… Antea means 'Watching the Light'. Interesting choice, but why that?"

"I come to that immediately. According to what is left of the system logs, this city was built for two reasons: To watch an astronomical phenomenon and Environment manipulation research, hence the building of the city on the lake ground. After the phenomenon was gone, the colony was abandoned. Activating security… closing front gates."

"What about the water and the elevator platforms you mentioned earlier?" Sam asked. "And what the hell does »Raquia« mean?"

"Raquia means city, Captain Carter. System Power output is now sixty-five percent… that is all I can get without an AI brain now, sir. The corridors are getting drained as we speak. Look." Touching the holograms as if they were keyboards or touch-screens, the view changed and suddenly, the whole room was one big hologram, showing a semi-transparent model of the facility. Clearly visible was the retreat of the water from the corridors. She continued working on the screens. "Elevator platforms are online as of… now. Everyone, prepare for an energy surge!"

"WHAT!" The others yelled.

"Clean-sweep wave pattern in five, four, three, two, one… now." A gentle energy wave washed over them, leaving a feeling of… "Raquia Ashura Drainage protocol completed."

"What the hell was that, Portsmouth?" Jack demanded, irritated.

"How do you feel, sir?" Jamila asked grinning as she and the controller platform came back down to earth. Her hair was back to dark brown – and dry.

That took the wind out of his sails (note 1). "Uhm… I don't know, kind of… refreshed?"

Daniel spoke up. "Now that you mention it, Jack, I feel refreshed too."

"Yeah… as if I have taken a bath just now, sir," Sam agreed.

"Indeed," Teal'c added.

Still, Jack's irritation was not completely out of the window. "Captain… that still doesn't answer my question. What the hell was this energy… wave?"

The Antarian grinned as she stepped off the platform, holograms dying down. "May I introduce you all to… the clean-sweep maintenance energy wave." Since no-one spoke, she continued. "According to the drainage protocol, after pumping out all the water out of the city corridors, a low-level three-dimensional energy-wave/ultrasonic sound shockwave combo is sent throughout the whole area of the city as a very quick means of cleaning this place thoroughly. Side-effect is that anyone who is in reach of the wave pattern aka the city area will be cleaned thoroughly too, hence the refreshing feeling. Anyone feeling like doing some shut-eye? The suns are down already…"

After recollecting his fallen jaw, Jack nodded, agreeing. "Okay. Where are the quarters you mentioned earlier?"

"Sub-levels One, Five and twenty-six. Wait." After a wave of the Antarian's hand at the platform, the holographic plan of the island reappeared, this time with multiple markings, including a group of lights: three blue, one red and one white in the map of the room they were in. "Quarters are here, here and here." Jamila pointed out and marked the respective areas in the model in green.

"What are these, ma'am?" Carter pointed at the lights in the facsimile of the Main frame.

"What? Oh, those! Us. Blue are Assians – humans from Assiah/Earth, the red indicates a hostile race like Jaffa, Goa'uld et cetera, and white is myself, Antarian. Anyway, Colonel, how is the watch routine for tonight?"

Jack nodded curtly. "I'm taking first; then Teal'c, Carter, Daniel and you take last since you are able to operate this technology. Let's set camp for now. I hope the quarters are as stylish as the rest of this place."

Jamila swayed her hand at the map, which vanished, and grinned at the rest of the team. "You might be surprised."

"Lead the way, Portsmouth," the Colonel ordered.

"Yes, sir." She picked up her gear and led them back to the corridor she had come in on this level after her dive. An elliptical »window« was placed into the floor, and a glassy panel shone on the wall to its left. The hole was roughly 3 m² in size. She pointed at it. "Come here. Stand there, on the window."

"But…" "Portsmouth…" "Ma'am…" Daniel, Jack and Sam protested simultaneously.

Jamila shook her head. "Trust me – or at least the technology in this place. This »hole« in the floor is the elevator. And now Carter, you may ask."

"Ma'am… didn't you come right through this hole up here?"

"Yes… God Carter…" The Antarian shook her head again. "Okay – if it makes you all happier…" She went to the hole and stood on nothing but thin air, until an ellipsis of blue shining energy gathered under her, a bit smaller than the hole itself. "Satisfied, everyone?"

The statement gave her the well-earned "Oh My God!" by the humans and _two_ raised eyebrows by Teal'c.

Sam was the first to step on it. She didn't fall. The surface of the energy disc rippled in small waves where the feet of the women 'touched' it. "Incredible! It's… I can't describe it… it's like…"

"Walking on water," was the strange comment of Jamila.

Sam faced her, puzzled. "Well, that would be an appropriate analogy, Ma'am…"

"How else would you describe standing on pure anti-gravitation-energy but like something humans cannot do?" came the smug reply.

Jack blinked in confusion. "Do you imply that you can walk on water, Portsmouth?"

"As a matter of fact, sir, yes, I can. But that's not my point. It would be much easier if you all move your collected lovely backsides over here, wouldn't it?"

"I guess…" he murmured and moved onto the 'elevator', followed by Daniel and Teal'c.

"Well then, here we go." With another gesture of the Antarian towards the panel on the wall, SG-1 sank through the floor. Once they all were in the space between ceiling and floor of sub-level one, they were moved to the side and, with a light tapping sound, the team was placed on the floor. The »platform« vanished.

Immediately, soft lights in the corridor _walls_ sprang to life. Jamila sighed nostalgically.

"Something the matter, Sailor?"

"I don't know… I just had the feeling that something was amiss, and then I realized that if the city still had an AI core, the 'voice' of the city's AI would greet us on this floor." She shook her head. "I know; it's stupid. Silly me…"

"Not really." Jack shrugged, taking in the surroundings. "Well, I think you should lead the way, Skipper."

"Yes, sir. This way." Guiding them into a smaller side-passage, she came to a short halt and checked the map on her wrist device. "All right, I got it…" She clapped her hands. "This hallway is dormitory section »Antas« – Alpha, so to speak. Here are the Facility CO's quarters and the quarters of her respective his staff. Ideal for us. There is also a mess hall around here…"

"What about security?" Sam asked. "I mean, this place is highly guarded."

"I locked all the doors and entrances, including the one I came through, and set up the alert to wake me in case someone tries to come in. But it still would be better to send someone to the control room for watching the alert display."

Daniel jumped in. "Wait a sec, are you not the only one who can operate these things?"

Jamila grinned sheepishly. "The display of the security system is on the wall, it's a touch-screen… and it's active since the system is active. Before you ask, it's the one with maps of the facility and it's in intel-only-mode." She turned to face them. "Anyway, how about dinner? And before anyone sickens her or his stomach…" A blue shipping crate with RN markings flew through the air and came to a halt beside the sniper.

"WHOA!" her human companions yelled in surprise. Teal'c lifted _both_ eyebrows.

"…I got a couple of sandwiches packed into this one," she finished, smirking as wide as the Cheshire Cat. "Sorry for the psychokinesis."

At last, Sam caught herself. "Ma'am, is that another Box-room?"

"Yes. With cooler function." She shrugged. "Hence it's not as big as the one for books. Now, if you follow me please…" she said and walked away, the box following her constantly.

Sighing and scrubbing his hand over his face, Jack followed her. "I guess it's dinner time then."

**commissarycommissarycommissarycommissarycommissarycommissarycommissarycommissarycommissarycommissarycommissary**

PX5-939/Antea  
Ashura City Control Centre  
Sub-Level 1  
Mess Hall 1  
June 30, 1998  
Nightfall

A few minutes later, SG-1 sat around a very low table in the Antarian mess hall on cushions, all placed on some kind of dinner platform. Surprisingly, the floor in this room was not, like the corridors, the naked solid white limestone the island consisted of, but covered with a strange kind of parquet. All the dinner platforms themselves were covered with… well; Daniel compared it to Japanese tatami mats, but made of very different materials. For starters, they were not half as delicate as the traditional straw mats; next to that, they were not slippery.

Jamila lowered the shipping crate onto a corner of the platform. "Well, here we go…"

"Just a question Portsmouth, when did you make these?"

"Yesterday evening. 2100 GMT. Just before I came over with a hop. So, what do you want?"

Teal'c simply stretched his hand out. "Whatever you give me, Captain Bartholomew."

"Very well then… curry-chicken. All of them." Two boxes were handed over.

"What do you still have, Ma'am?"

"Wait a sec…" she rummaged through the box, a rather interesting sight since she was hanging halfway into it. She came back with a couple of smaller boxes and placed them on the low table. "Brr, cold. Tuna and Corn, Tuna and Egg, Egg and Tomato, Egg and cress, Egg and Ham, Turkey and Ham and finally, Salami-Ham-Cheese. I hope you all don't mind tea…"

Jack shook his head and held out his mug, grinning. "No, not at all."

She poured him some tea. "Milk, sugar?"

"Thanks. Milk would be nice. Just a drop."

A glance of hers at the cooler and a small bottle of coffee-milk flew out, opening in mid-air and dripping its contents a few times in Jack's mug. "There you go." After helping herself, she placed the thermos on the table.

Jack took a sip and made an appreciative sound. "Thanks. I take it you don't like coffee."

"Nope. Family trait. Actually, I cannot drink coffee at all." She grinned sheepishly and pointed to the sandwiches. "Help yourself."

"Oh?" Daniel was puzzled.

"The lower branches/lines of the Bartholomew clan ship tea around the world. And drinking coffee, even with milk, makes me nauseous. Ironic."

"Why is that ironic, Milady?"

"I love tiramisu. (note 2)"

"Ah." He shook his head in amazement. "Well, if you have hot water, I'll help myself."

She made a sour face. "Coffee junkie. Fine, have it your way." She snatched his mug and poured him cold water out of a canteen. Touching the side of the mug, the water in it heated up in an instance. She gave it back. "Don't ask. I still do not really get how this works…"

Sam finished her first sandwich and picked up the thermos, pouring herself and Teal'c some of the hot beverage. "Well, you showed telekinetic–"

"Psychokinetic powers."

"Fine, psychokinetic powers. Is there a difference?"

"According to the tests I had to endure, I can move and control matter and energy at their most basic level, not just objects, by pure imagination. It takes the entire 'move things by thoughts' to a whole new level."

Sam's eyes widened and her brow furrowed – you could actually see the gears in her mind spinning in the way her eyes glazed over. She took a deep breath to begin one of her famous techno-rants, "Well, that would explain the thing with the water. Most likely you accelerate the molecules of…"

"CARTER!" both mess officers (note 3) yelled at the prospect of a new headache. Jack had one from trying to remember when and where he had heard the _Tempest_ call sign the first time and Jamila's stemmed from her jetlag/gate-lag and the deep dive.

"Sorry sirs."

"Carter, I just dived sixty metres down and up again, restarted an administrative system and activated the elevators. I do NOT need a complicated explanation how this actually works in physics. I just do it."

"With respect, ma'am, what is it exactly what you do?"

"I think 'hot water' and then specifically _which_ water; or I touch or point at it."

"That's all?"

"Not exactly. It's »hot water«, hot water in High Antarian…"

Jack froze mid-bite and then grumbled, "Could you please stop this?"

"Sorry."

This spiked Daniel's interest. "What's wrong Jack?"

"Nothing." Daniel glared. Jack finished one half of his sandwich and sighed. "It's just, every time she uses that 'language', I can't stop the images and meanings popping into my head!"

Daniel picked up his coffee. "Wait… you said before that High Antarian is a term-meaning-based communication form…"

"Yeah, so what?"

"Combined with the fact that High Antarian script is phonemic-alphabetic and that you're telepathic… wait, I'm nearly there!" he panicked as he saw the annoyed face of Jack. "I'm fairly sure that the language class is ideo-phonetic. As if you are speaking runes (note 4)!"

Jamila made a sour grimace and applauded sarcastically. "Well done… You know, my husband needed fifteen minutes to come to that conclusion. And he's just your ordinary aide-de-camp for the First Sea Lord. By the way, would you mind to eat and let us eat? It took me half an hour to make these." To emphasis her statement, she snatched one of the Tuna-and-Corn-sandwiches and sank her teeth into it.

"She's right you know, Space monkey…"

"You really don't get it, Jack! This language is the closest to universal communication you can get! The language of true telepaths!"

"EAT! That's an order Dr Jackson." The Irish downed his tea. "Can I have some more?"

Jamila shrugged. "Help yourself Colonel. And Jackson, stop bugging me about things I explained about a hundred times already to the linguists of the Royal Navy. Just read their books I gave you and you will be fine. Now, eat everyone. Afterwards I'll show you how to activate the vertical transporters manually and your quarters."

Jack took the silence as chance to snatch the thermos and poured himself some more while his other hand wandered over to the boxes with sandwiches, getting a few more. "Thanks."

"You are welcome." She smiled genuinely at all of them. They ate in silence. Afterwards, the sniper packed up and led the team back to the main corridor.

"This is the vertical transporter control," she said, pointing at another touch-screen panel on the wall. With a few words, she explained the controls: the number of times you pushed the 'up' or 'down' button equalled the levels the system would take you after you entered the energy field. Afterwards, she led the others to their quarters while Jack made his way to the Mainframe for watch.

* * *

PX5-939  
Ashura City Control Centre  
Ground Level  
Mainframe Interface Room  
June 30, 1998  
Night

Jack sat in one of the chairs in the control room, head still slightly spinning with the instructions for the security system main display. It was basically another touch-screen, showing a 3D-map of the city and the direct environment in read-only-mode. Touching a point on it caused the map to zoom in… and touching the 'sky' zoom out. Intruders would be marked as enemy life signs. Pretty easy to understand, but still you needed someone to keep an eye on it.

Jack sighed. '_Who am I kidding? The real problem is that I am pretty sure I heard her call sign before. But I cannot remember _where_ I heard it… and _when_,_' he thought, slightly frustrated. Doing some mental rummaging didn't help either. '_No use. I simply cannot remember. Sometimes I wish I had my father's memory. But then again, he said once he hates remembering._' He shook his head. He was stuck. He _knew_ he had heard the "Tempest" call sign before. Yet it eluded him when and where, and that led back to question if he knew it, and thus had met her before. And that question was another crack, since he knew the call sign, and knew that the one he heard it so long ago from was female, but… Frustrated, he short-circuited his endless, hour-long thoughts. "Who are you? What the hell has brought you here?" he yelled at the thin air.

"Are you referring to Captain Bartholomew, O'Neill?" Teal'c stood in the entrance.

The Colonel turned around. "Teal'c. I was just talking to myself…"

The Jaffa raised an eyebrow, waiting patiently for an answer.

Jack glared first, but then he sighed and shook his head again. "Just thinking about her file. Anyway, have fun with watching the city. I'm gonna hit the sack. Good night."

"Good night, O'Neill."

* * *

PX5-939/Antea  
Ashura City Control Centre  
Sub-Level 1  
Quarters of the City Controllers  
July 01, 1998  
Just before Dawn (ca 0400 Zulu)

Gasping for air, Jamila woke up with a start, covered in cold sweat and her blue hair clinging to her neck and back as she sat up. »Not again. Why will it never stop«? she whispered, placing her forehead in her hands. »Great, now I am even talking to myself in High Antarian«. '_Sometimes I hate the night._' she thought, breathing heavily. Daylight was preferable to the night because it burned off the grasp of nightmares.

Deciding that she would not get any sleep anymore anyway, the diver got up, changed into her *normal* (also known as amphibious) Combat suit and diver shoes, put on her holstered SIG and went to the elevator, heading first for one of the underwater entrances, opened the doors and jumped into the cool water, washing off the sweat. "Cold. But… That felt good." Climbing out again, she retied her hair, locked the doors and headed to the control room.

SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1

PX5-939/Antea  
Ashura City Control Centre  
Ground Level  
Mainframe Interface Room  
July 01, 1998  
Just before Dawn (ca 0415 Zulu)

Sam was running in circles, both mentally and literally, for it tore her apart to be in a room filled with new technology and not being allowed/able to use it actively nor experiment on it. More than once she had been tempted to take the platform apart and study it to understand it. Her inner rant was cut short as Jamila walked in, more than half an hour too early for her watch.

"Morning Carter."

Said Captain jumped internally but managed to keep the shock in check. _'Damn, she is as sneaky as the Colonel!'_ "Good Morning, Ma'am. Are you not a bit early?"

"Had some really fancy dreams which woke me up. Took a cold bath in the lake and thought that I wouldn't be able to sleep any longer anyway, so I came here."

"Are you really alright, ma'am?" the blonde Astrophysicist asked, concerned. The look the female swimmer canoeist had on her face was an eerie facsimile of one of the Colonel's grimace-masks.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts as she took her place on the Mainframe interface platform and activated it. "Go to sleep Captain, I'll take it from here."

Hearing the unspoken order, Carter turned around and headed towards the door. "Very well ma'am. I see you at breakfast."

"Yeah. Sweet dreams, flying ace."

As soon as Sam was gone, Jamila »sat« back in the anti-gravitation field holo-chair of the Main frame and sighed. This was getting out of hand, and she knew it. She had come to the SGC with a rather personal quest: to find the answers to the pressing questions and visions which kept her on the brink of madness and mental stability, and her true name. But now, the familiar-not-so-familiar environment of Raquia Ashura had stirred up even more visions (good, but confusing ones) followed by some of her worst nightmares. In a nutshell, it was a case of identity, and so she yelled, "Who am I?" at no-one in particular.  
Just after she asked this, another display came up, suspiciously looking like a holographic entering form for the city controller. "What the hell…" Quickly, she ordered the system to wake the team. "Might as well go on with being here on political terms and be a pain in the neck. – Attention to all stations, report to control room ASAP. I repeat, report to control room ASAP." She yawned, smirking. "Let's see how much they hate my »Captain's voice«."

Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille Reveille

PX5-939/Antea  
Ashura City Control Centre  
Ground Level  
Mainframe Interface Room  
July 01, 1998  
Sunrise (ca 0500 Zulu)

Jack shuffled into the room, the rest of the team on his heels, all yawning (and Teal'c having an irritated look on his face). "I hope you have a good reason to yell at us an hour early Skipper, otherwise–"

"–Good morning to you too, sir." Jamila's voice, usually having a rather polite, distinguished tone, was now filled with an edgy quality. Jack recognized it immediately.

"You don't have to go all CO on us, you know…"

Drawing a deep breath, she countered, "Manners are important, no matter what."

"Okay, okay, okay."_ "Wow. At least I have now an idea of her abilities as leader. They say a Navy Captain's CO-voice rivals that of a General because the only thing the crew gets to know of them is their voice over PA most of the time. Looks like it's not just a cliché. She's able to make full Colonels jump. I wonder how that jarhead Makepeace would react to her voice…"_

"Anyway, it looks like we can lay claim on the city…" She pointed at the extra display, bringing his thoughts to a halt.

"How that Milady?" Daniel wondered. "Surely it can't be _that_ easy."

"If I am reading this 'form' right, entering my name and data in it would make me the new city controller, giving us access to the rest of the city and the lower levels." She shook her head. "I won't lie to you all; the city is most likely going to scan me and my memories if I am suitable for the job."

"Well, in that case…" Jack started; not keen on the whole scanning idea.

"Wait sir, we should try it." Sam's thought began spinning as she was thinking what kind of amazing technology they could find down there, and… "Just a question ma'am… Am I right with the theory that most Antarian technology is biologic, biotech and/or bionic, ma'am?" She bit her lip.

Jamila smiled sarcastically but impressed. "You are not mistaken, Captain. What gave you the idea?"

"Actually, it were the pillars in the entrance hall. They look and feel organic, as if they were alive – or artificially animated. Like crystalloid vines."

"Bull's eye Flying ace. It's animated material – I can sense the 'life' in it. The door frame is made of it too by the way…"

She walked towards the door frame, touched it, took a deep breath in and took off. "Incredible! This feels…"

Jamila grinned, making an amused assessment of her only female new team-mate. _»Wide-eyed, enthusiastic, geeky Polymath Genius, a bit naïve and idealistic for a soldier in Special Forces, and absolutely a woman who attracts the men. Beautiful, in a girly way – she has neither shadows or doubts, nor an air of distance or majesty – just plain Sam Carter. Walks a straight line in life – has principles, cannot be lead ashtray; good. But also not too shabby as soldier, when I snuck in earlier she kept her composure instead of jumping out of her skin… but she definitely doesn't know what she _could_ be capable of if she wanted, unlike the Colonel or me. But that's good. Innocence is a blessing after all. How rare to find someone untainted in that line of work«!_ she thought, half-listening only, knowing these things already. _»I just hope she doesn't come to the wrong conclusion…«_

"…and maybe that explains why…" Sam had gone into full lecture mode.

Jack cut her short. "CARTER! I've woken up an hour early, haven't had coffee – or tea, for that matter, and you start a full-scale techno-babble lecture on me at… wow, oh-five-hundred in the wee morning hours! Is there light outside yet Portsmouth?"

Looking up the weather HUD, she confirmed. "Just Sunrise Colonel. The first sun rises now, the second one will be up in half an hour or so."

Guiltily, Sam murmured, "Sorry sirs."

"So, what is so important about this?" he scoffed, clearly in the need of a morning caffeine/teine (note 5) fix.

"Sir, it would explain the hard coal she used in her lab yesterday." Turning to the woman in the middle of the room, she asked, "Ma'am, can you confirm something?" After the Antarian gave her an encouraging gesture, she started again, this time at a little more reasonable pace. "My theory is that most, if not all Antarian technology bases on Carbon in multiple forms, mainly crystal or biotechnological – animated… what did you call it? Oh yes, Carbonite."

"Score. For someone who cannot get to the point without being urged to, that's a good analysis." She sighed and faced Jack. "Sir, I really think we should do this. You have seen that the city is not fully accessible without complete control over the security systems, never mind that some things won't work without that computer core brain…"

"You always say computer core _brain_, Milady," Daniel jumped in, alarmed.

"That's what the computer says: 'Warning. Access to high security not without City Controller board permission. Computer Core Brain »Ashura« was removed. Danger of data loss.' I don't know what that exactly means – yet."

"Oh."

"Anyway, sir. We should do this, no, I _have_ to do this." She closed her eyes.

Jack nodded in understanding, having another sudden insight in her ways of thinking. "This place drives you insane with memories, doesn't it?"

She laughed hollowly. "You got me. The worst is, they don't make sense to me yet. It just causes more question marks."

'_I hate it when I'm right in such matters,'_ he mused bitterly. "Alright then. But first, we have breakfast and report back."

"Gotcha."

* * *

PX5-939/Antea  
Stargate Area  
June 30, 1998  
Morning (ca 0600 Zulu)

After another rounds of London Sandwiches, Westminster tea ("I really think you should try tea instead of coffee, Doctor Jackson," "No, thanks, I'm good.") and making a general sweep of the City control Complex (which brought them to the Map room), the two Air Force members had hiked back to the gate.

"Dial it up, Carter."

"Yes sir." Auriga, Cetus, Centaurus, Cancer, Scutum, Eridanus and the Point of Origin, an eye with the sun-shaped character for Antas [A] as pupil. Antea.

Jack activated the radio and camera of the MALP sitting beside the gate.

"Sierra Golf Charlie, this is Sierra Golf One, do you read?"

"Loud and clear Colonel," Hammond answered through the transmission. "Good morning."

"Good morning to you too sir. It seems like we hit here an Alien tech jackpot…"

The uneasy sound of his 2IC made Hammond stopping himself from thinking 'Yee-hah!' asking instead, "That sounds great Jack, but why do I have the feeling that there's a catch?"

Jack winced internally. No way to hide it. "It's a whole abandoned Antarian _city_, built on the lake ground, sir. Only Portsmouth can give us access to the lower level though, and she has to undergo a scanning procedure to let the city acknowledge and register her as the new city admin. And I don't like the thought."

"And?"

"She insists that she has to do this. The worst thing is actually that I know she's right. This place drives her insane sir. Strategically spoken, we really cannot pass up such an opportunity. A whole Antarian city filled with alien gizmos, and we got someone to operate them. But I still don't like it."

That was Sam's cue to jump into the conversation. "Sir, this is certainly the biggest, most advanced and sophisticated cache of alien technology we ever got our hands on yet, and with the Captain being Antarian, it would even be absolutely legal. We can lay claim on it. And from what I have seen so far, we can learn a hell lot of it, sir."

"Like what, Captain?" Hammond asked impatiently.

"Medicine, Chemistry for example. The whole technology we have seen so far is biotech, sir. Also, the whole city seems to be… animated, sir." Sam's face showed her absolute amazement. "It appears that the Antarians prefer healing to repairs, and mastered to harness (the forces of) nature… Sir, the world we are on is named Antea which means according to Colonel O'Neill and Captain Bartholomew 'Light watching'. It was basically a gigantic environment manipulation testing site. On top of that, it is an astronomic observatory, and from what we have seen, it is far more advanced than anything we have encountered so far – the star map we have come across is dynamic."

"Captain…"

"Sir, the star map updated itself in the very moment we entered the room, showing within a few minutes more than ten thousand years of star movement up to the current day, and it is still moving."

The General sighed. "But what has that to do with Bartholomew becoming the City controller, Captain Carter? And why are you apparently able to understand Antarian language, Colonel O'Neill?"

Said Colonel shook his head. "I got nothing, sir. It seems like I was born with this ability. We haven't been able to take a look at this thing yet. I suggest we do this after our return."

"Alright. Captain?" The General's voice sounded.

"Sir, no-one but the City controller can give access to high security areas like the computer core room, the library, several laboratories and the observatory, and is also the only one who can completely lockdown »Ashura«. The main computer interface of the city recognised Captain Bartholomew as someone capable of being City controller, and no one else of us can activate the system," she finished eagerly, but also bit disappointed of the fact that she couldn't use anything.

On Earth, Hammond face turned into a look of defeat. _'Why is it always SG-1 who manages to get into this kind of weird situations?'_ he wondered. "Colonel?"

"Yes sir?" The senior officer stepped forward, instinctively snapping to a lax form of attention.

"Do it, but proceed with caution. And find Captain Bartholomew's motives for coming here."

Jack closed his eyes and shook his head before facing the MALP camera again. "Sir, I know them already. It's impending madness."

"I beg your pardon?"

"From what I have seen of Portsmouth so far, sir, I'm pretty sure that Captain Jamila Sarah Miranda Elizabeth Mary Lady Bartholomew suffers a _massive_ identity crisis, induced by the countless question marks her Alien memories give her." Jack made a pause before he continued, "Given her skill set, it is likely that the British Admiralty deemed her far too valuable a resource to lose her to some… shrinks and allowed her this rather personal quest for identity… which brings her to the SGC, the only place where an Alien can find answers."

"And it didn't hurt The Admiralty that the Stargate means access to even more alien technology, so they figured it would be okay to let her go," it dawned to the General.

"Is that everything, sir?" Jack asked. "I don't want to let them wait."

"Yes. Dismissed."

"Yes, sir. SG-1 over and out." The Stargate shut itself down after the radio signal died.

* * *

PX5-939/Antea  
Ashura City Control Centre  
Ground Level  
Mainframe Interface Room  
July 01, 1998  
Morning (ca 0630 Zulu)

Daniel was pacing a circle around Jamila, much to the irritation of the Swimmer Canoeist and causing Teal'c to lift some eyebrows as she decided that it was too distracting. "Oh, confound it! Would you mind stop pacing, Doctor Jackson, for goodness sake?" she yelled, facing him.

Daniel stopped in his tracks at the strange choice of words, not actually a curse… more something among the lines of Jack's 'For crying out loud', but still a frustrated shout. "Okay, okay, okay. Interesting choice of words by the way. Where were you educated before entering the Navy Milady?" he inquired.

She fixated him sourly. "St Andrews College, Liverpool. An old public school my family helped founding."

"Ah. Well, that explains a lot, especially the fact that you scouse (note 6)."

She harrumphed at the notion of her barely noticeable accent-non-accent. "Genuine Liverpudlian clan Jackson. The Bartholomew clan originally hails from Liverpool, and our main grounds are laying Merseyside. And an American should _not_ come up with references about speaking proper _Queen's English_ while talking to a _Briton_, Doctor."

Daniel shuddered. The polite, even tone and her decent but sharp witty reasoning were just as bad as Jack's. "All right, I get it, You're English–"

With a movement so flawless and fast that even Teal'c did not have the time to react, Jamila fell to earth, pushed Daniel off his feet and, by curling the middle and ring finger of her right hand, stopped him from crashing into the wall, levitating him in air. "_Don't you dare calling me __English__, commoner, don't you dare_! I am a full-blood Briton, not a godforsaken Anglo-Saxon-something, and I insist on that," she hissed into his face. Then she let him go.

"I'm sorry!" The archaeologist was just glad she was sensible enough not to draw a knife; furthermore, he wondered why she had saved him from crashing into the wall.

She stepped back and retook her place on the platform. "Fine. Just don't do it again Jackson."

But her remark about being a Briton gave her strong reaction to being called English a sad and twisted sense – full-blood Britons were a minority nowadays, no thanks to said Anglo-Saxons (they tried to eradicate them by preventing British men marrying British women more than a millennia ago), mainly living in the West of England on the Merseyside and close to the border to Wales, to where the last surviving clans flew from the intruders. "But allow me a question, how am I supposed to know you're a Celt and not a German?"

"Simple. My last name is Bartholomew, not Smith, not Stevens or any of these Anglicism or God forbid a French name. Bartholomew means 'master of the mews' or 'son of the furrows', depending on if you translate it from British or Old Hebrew, which is in the end the same thing: 'someone who owns a lot of land' and therefore is prosperous. It is _not_ an English name."

Still a bit panting, Daniel answered, "Thanks for the intel." Suddenly, he realized that she just had had dressed him down like your ordinary soldier. "_I can't believe it! I'm not even military! Jack was right, she's all CO the moment you offend her… and the worst is, I reacted to it exactly the way a soldier would!_" He continued his pacing around her until he faced her again. "Just a question, why did you save me from crashing into the wall Milady?"

With eyes closed, she replied, "You're neither my enemy nor my target, Doctor."

"Riiight… just why are you here your Ladyship? Why does an accomplished Naval officer and Aristocrat leave her perfect, happy life and perfect career for a galactic war?"

In answer, she smirked, albeit bitterly and melancholically. "Sometimes perfect is not all you need."

"Alright Space monkey, that's enough torture. We don't want a sniper who can't concentrate on her target and stealth." Like on demand, Jack and Sam re-entered the City Control Mainframe room.

"Colonel, Captain Carter." Jamila turned around. "_Saved by the bell, phew._"

"Jack!" "O'Neill."

"Easy big guy. And please spare her the interrogation Space monkey."

"Space monkey." Jamila chuckled. "Just a question O'Neill, is that his call sign or something?"

Jack snickered. "Nope, but maybe we should make it his."

"_Jack_!" Daniel's annoyed voice resonated in the small chamber.

"What? It's a valid suggestion. At least it would end the problem of proper radio protocol… but let's do that back home okay? We have permission to proceed with laying claim on »Ashura«, Navy."

Portsmouth breathed deeply and nodded gratefully. "Thank you, sir." Closing her eyes for concentration, she whispered loudly in High Antarian, »Okay… Here goes nothing…« and then yelled, "Who am I?"

This caused the form from earlier to reappear. As she laid her glance on him for reassurance, Jack nodded slowly. "Go on."

Quickly, the half-awakened Antarian entered her name and basic data: Planet of origin (Assiah), Name and status (unknown) and touched the "button" for activating the process. Suddenly, light filled the chamber, and an artificial voice announced something in High Antarian.

"Jack, what did that voice say?" Daniel wondered.

The CCT's face was grim. "Physical scan complete. Physical compatibility one hundred percent. Starting memory scan."

A high-pitched sound started to accompany the light, which seemed to concentrate on Jamila, scanning her in thin discs running between the ceiling and the floor. Out of nowhere, the holographic chair interface vanished and Jamila "stood" in thin air, arching her back in mental agony and yelled. "Out of my head!"

Horrified, SG-1 stood there, frozen. Out of an impulse, Teal'c decided to act and tried to reach the Briton in the pillar of light – and was thrown against the wall. "Teal'c!" Sam called.

"I am well, Captain Carter. Maybe a little shaken."

"Looks like the procedure cannot be interrupted." She turned to her CO. "I'm sorry sir. I never should have agreed to this."

"Ya think? Come on Carter, you cannot always be right, and anyway, look." In the moment he finished speaking, the light as well as the noise and the bone-chilling cries of their Alien team-mate had vanished. However, the energy field which had supported her was gone too and so she fell, unconscious. Before she could crash in a boneless heap, both Air Force officers jumped to catch her. "Ma'am!" "Portsmouth! Are you all right?"

Blinking, Jamila woke up. "Oh… that feels like the morning after the end of Officer's training…"

"What?!" Daniel exclaimed.

"I misheard the rules and drank the whole bottle of rum in five instead of ten minutes. Alone. Urgh… hey, you can let me go, I just need to sit down a while…"

"Are you all well, Captain Bartholomew?" Teal'c inquired as he stepped in front of her. Meanwhile, Sam and Jack had carefully placed her in one of the chairs.

"Fine enough. Ow, my head. Did someone get the number of that bus?" she groaned as she tried to clear her head by shaking it.

"Are you really all right Portsmouth?" Jack asked.

"Just give me a minute, wait, make that two. This is worse than a hangover, too much intel… at least there is some order in here at last…" she mumbled, pointing to her head.

"What happened, ma'am?" Sam asked, barely concealing her eagerness.

At the same time, the artificial voice of the base computer announced in English, "City controller recognition protocol complete. City controller successfully debriefed. Welcome to Ashura, Portsmouth-Leikar."

Jamila shook her head again. "Well, there's that… what the computer said… basically, it first scanned me and after it found out that I was mentally suitable for the job, it downloaded some basic information into my memory – and set the verbal interface to English. But without the core brain of the central computer we cannot translate the basic programming into English."

Daniel's earlier alarmed mood returned at the notion of the core brain. "There you go again, Core _Brain_. What is it with this?"

She sighed and got up. "Take that literally Doctor Jackson. If you all would follow me please… I am going show you the true meaning of biologic technology. We can take a stray to the observatory though afterwards. And then, I suggest that we return back to earth and leave this place to a bunch of scientists for a while. Sir."

Before the two scientists could object, Jack nodded slowly. "All right. Show us the treasure."

* * *

PX5-939/Antea  
Ashura City Control Centre  
Sub-Level 12  
Main Corridor  
July 01, 1998  
Morning (ca 0900 Zulu)

"Warning. You are entering a security area. City Controller or Chief Computer Controller or Chief Engineer presence required if no authorisation for your mental signature existent in data base," the computer announced as SG-1 stood in front of another crystal carbonite door. This time though, the door was opaque and seemed to be made from a single crystal.

"How fortunate that we actually _have_ the Controller with us… care to elaborate where we are Milady?" Daniel pouted.

Sam however noticed something else. "Am I imagining things or was the voice of the computer louder than before, Ma'am?" She pulled out a scanner for EM-energy. "Also, I get some rather odd readings here, strangely reminding of an EEG…"

Jamila however simply stared at the door. "Open up," she ordered, and the door complied.

"Passages to Computer Core room Antas to Deneb unlocked. Welcome City Controller."

"Here we go. As for your question Captain Carter… the computer _is_ louder because we are in it."

"WHAT THE HELL?" the three Americans yelled, dumbfounded.

"The entire level we are on is the City Main Computer core." She snickered and led them into the Core room. "Seriously, what did you think?"

The moment SG-1 entered the room, they were rendered speechless as the light turned up in the chamber. Crystals of various shapes, growing from floor to ceiling, as well as black carbonite-and-metal consoles filled the room, forming concentric circles around a central structure, intersected by four pathways leading to the central structure. Everything was connected by crystalloid vines, growing over and under the surface of the floor, giving the impression of an intelligent, glowing, thinking grove made of crystal. Ignoring this wonderful sight however, Jamila pushed further, leading them to the centre of the star-shaped room. An energy barrier, spanned between seven vine-pillars, separated the centre from the rest of the room, effectively ending the »corridors« between the hardware. On the path SG-1 stood on was another technopath interface platform, this time laid into the floor and without a ceiling counterpart, which Jamila walked onto. Immediately, the floorboard lightened up. "Welcome City Controller. Your orders please," the Computer greeted her, loud and clear.

Finally, Sam and the others woke from their stunned amazement. Daniel pulled out his camera and made a long sweep of the room. On the face of the astrophysicist and engineer however spread a look of pure wonder, like that of a child in a candy store. "Oh my god… this whole room… is the Computer? The capacity must be… to use the right word, astronomic!" Just then, she set out to touch the energy field.

"DON'T TOUCH THIS CARTER!" the Antarian yelled in a horrible voice, waving her right, flat hand in a slapping motion, coming to a halt in front of her face. Without delay, Sam froze dead in mid-movement, fingers only centimetres from the shield. Heavily breathing, she ordered, "Never – do – that – again – Carter; is that clear, Flying ace?"

"Ye-yes, ma'am," the younger woman stammered.

On the inside, Jack was as terrified as his 2IC, for he, standing the closest to the Naval officer, could actually _feel_ the restricting energy coming in waves of Portsmouth, stopping Carter from doing something apparently incredibly stupid and dangerous. But Jack being Jack hid it well behind another angry remark. "Enough Portsmouth!" Immediately, Jamila dropped the hand and let her go. "Care to explain, Skipper?"

Jamila sighed and faced her CO. "The energy field would have killed her, sir. It's a combo of high-charged electric and kinetic energy. Even the slightest of touches would have set off the trap, electrocuting her and propelling her into the next wall. Even if she would survive the shock, the kinetic blast and crash would break _every_ bone in her body, including her spine and skull. This island is solid limestone, enhanced by being imbedued with Carbonite vines. This trap was developed to kill _my_ kind (note 7)." She shot the energy field a glance, giving a silent command, and it vanished.

"Access to Central Processing unit granted. Security barrier offline," the Computer announced. "Warning, Central Processing unit amiss. Replace at the next opportunity."

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, you're brainless Ashura," Bartholomew mumbled.

Sam was still horrified, and on top of that, angry of herself for being careless _**again**_. "Thanks ma'am. I really have to stop doing that."

"Just do me the favour to never terrify me that much again; my nerves are already fairly shot on a normal day, and I absolutely need the rest of them for placing clean hits," she muttered.

"Yes ma'am."

"Let's go.

Entering the Crystal core, SG-1 found itself in front of… an empty spot.

"What's going on?" Jack demanded.

"There appears to be something amiss O'Neill," Teal'c filled in.

"Yeah, I think we noticed that." He frowned. "Portsmouth?"

"Welcome to megacryst (note 8). _This_ is the _crystalloid_ part of the computer core." Jamila made her way towards the circle marking in the middle. "I know; nothing you would not expect with just having seen the rest of the Computer. The thing which is amiss is supposed to stand exactly on this spot."

"Which is the infamous _core brain_, or am I wrong Milady?" Daniel scoffed.

Jamila faced him and reopened her eyes abruptly, irises shining purple. "A normal computer is basically an extremely primitive brain. My kind went a little further and uses brains created in labs as CPUs. Ashura, show model of Central Core AI Brain Mark XII." A hologram formed on the empty spot, showing a brain in a crystalloid cylinder three metres tall, apparently filled with liquid. The brain's nerves extended towards the crystals, and it was wrapped in bandage-like Carbonite vines.

"_Oh my God_!" Jack and Daniel yelled, while Carter, whose wildest expectations had been surpassed just now, called an "_Impossible_!"

Captain Bartholomew shook her head. "Not impossible. And not more unmoral than any DNA experiment. You see… These are one hundred percent artificial nowadays. The outer cylinder, carrying the external programming, prevents the brain from contradicting and opposing its masters and enhance its performance up to a level human engineers can not even dream of yet. Basically: the flexibility of a real person combined with the absolute subservience of a machine." She sighed. "Do you know how many _Assian_ scientists dream of being able to program a brain down to their wishes? This… is the true meaning of biotechnology, using nature's inventions. This is a bio-computer, capable of sensitive thought, reason, morale and ethics. A Mark XII even has a codex of honour." Waving her hand at the model, the image vanished, but not before Daniel was able to film it.

Sam however closed in to her other team-mate, standing beside the sniper. "Wow. This is… wow."

"Sam Carter, PhD, reduced to one syllable. It is not what I expected," the older woman remarked.

"Well ma'am, I've never seen or heard of the idea of using a brain instead of electronics, but given the fact that Antarian technology is biology-based, it is the logical conclusion–"

"SAM! You cannot be serious! What about morale?" Daniel started to argue heatedly, getting closer to the women.

Jack however grabbed him by the shoulder before he could do something about as stupid as Sam and the energy field earlier. "Easy, Daniel. Or do you want to have another session with _her_ temper?" he asked, pointing at the newest SG-1 member with the thumb. "And anyway, she said they were manufactured, cultivated in a lab. Nothing but animated material with a pre-programmed persona. By the way, how do you know these things?"

Jamila shot him a glance. "It was among the basic data in the download. Section: Basic knowledge of Antarian technology."

"This argument doesn't excuse the usage of a BRAIN Milady! Or what do you think Teal'c?" Daniel was obviously in no mood to let the topic slide so easily.

Said Jaffa raised both his eyebrows. "The Antarians are said to use advanced biotechnology for longer than humans exist. More than once I have been ordered to destroy the remains because the Goa'uld cannot use it. And the exact specifications of it are a secret guarded jealously by them, their followers and protected people."

"Teal'c…" The archaeologist made an exasperated face.

"That's enough Space monkey. Drop it," Jack ordered. "I'm going to get another headache if you won't stop complaining." Daniel glared at him, but stayed silent. "Well, looks like we found your little shop of horrors, Portsmouth. What about the observatory?"

Jamila looked at him, amused. "Do you like the stars, Colonel?"

"Yes, why do you ask?" he asked.

"Well, you didn't seem _too_ thrilled at coming down here and have a look at the computer, the very core of everything in this city. The observatory however is not in the control centre, but at the verges of the city." Glancing at the ceiling, she added, "It is basically a dynamic, highly advanced planetarium, combined with an observatory. The entrance to the city is two levels up, at sub-level ten. Your choice sir."

Jack returned her light grin with a rather mysterious undertone. "You said your kind built this city because of the star observatory, I know exactly what you actually have your DScs in, Captain, and I am a stargazer person myself. I am so not going to miss the opportunity to use the alien version of an observatory-planetarium. Lead the way, Stargazer."

"Funny you use that word…"

He frowned. "Why?"

She shook her head. "You'll see when we return to Earth."

"O-kayyyy…"

* * *

PX5-939/Antea  
Raquia Ashura  
Great Observatory of Ashura  
Entrance Hall  
July 01, 1998  
Morning (ca 1100 Zulu)

After using a teleporter platform (!) which bypasses the disruptor field of the island – it was slightly spiked (not enough to stop the other powers of Antarians) with a meta-energy disrupting metal named Ditanium – by sending the meta-energy you become through vines instead of the "wireless" subspace transfer, SG-1 stood in the relatively small entrance hall of the Great Observatory of Ashura on another teleporter platform. The trademark vine-pillars supported the ceiling, and the walls were… transparent, nothing but big windows, giving a good view of Ashura, which was glowing from countless lights.

Jack went to the window and whistled. "Nice. Looks like this is the highest point on the lake ground outside of the island… Where do these doors lead to?" He pointed at a pair of wide swing doors in the carbonite window-wall.

Jamila fiddled with her wrist computer, looking up the map. "Underwater tunnel pathways into the city. The ones on the opposite side lead to the actual observatory and some laboratories/offices."

"Well then campers, I guess we should have a look at the sky of Antea. Which door?"

"The double ones, but don't expect too much. The really fancy functions of this place are offline without a computer core." She sighed.

StargazerStargazerStargazerStargazerStargazerStargazerStargazerStargazer

PX5-939/Antea  
Raquia Ashura  
Great Observatory of Ashura  
Observatory  
July 01, 1998  
Morning (ca 1115 Zulu)

The Great Observatory of Ashura was a spherical room with a bridge leading to a platform supported by one rather filigree vine pillar in the middle of the room. There, a few consoles surrounded another technopath interface platform.

"Captain, ma'am, I got a question." Sam was fiddling/playing with a console, scrolling through encoded data.

"What is it, Captain? Oh, I don't think you'll be able to read that. It's still un-translated and it's written in code by the way," Jamila replied, taking again position floating over the controlling platform, »seating« in a holo-chair.

"No, that I noticed already. You said this place is both like an observatory and a planetarium. My question is: How that, Ma'am?" Sam failed miserably in concealing her enthusiasm.

Jamila chuckled. "My-my, are we not a bit too eager to know, huh? My kind doesn't make a difference between both anymore. This place is like NORAD, but millions of years ahead in technology."

"Which means… oh my God! Sir! The whole room is a gigantic display for the sky of the planet!" Sam's excitement knew no limits. "Can you turn it on? Or are the satellites out of order?"

"Easy my dear. The sensor arrays are still fully functional…" Making an artistic pause, Jamila yelled, "SKY!" and the room went dark… until it filled itself with stars bit by bit, earning its mistress some well-deserved gasps of surprise.

"Wow!" Daniel was truly at a loss of words.

"Amazing… a live holographic view of the sky…" Sam mumbled, her mind taking off into hyperspace. "I wonder how…"

"Subspace Meta-energy link, Carter," the floating Antarian answered.

"Beautiful." Jack's heartfelt statement of an astronomer earned him an approving smile of the Lady.

"I think your statement suits it the most Sir."

"That's a big compliment for a professional astronomer…" he quipped.

"Why do I have the feeling that there is more to you than it meets the ears?" Jamila frowned.

"Indeed." Teal'c's awed catchphrase snapped the team out of their daydreams.

"Well campers, looks like we saw the best parts already. How about that we blow this popsicle stand and return home?"

"Sir, we can't. None of our scientists is a technopath and can run the major systems. They would need Bartholomew to run the place for them!" Sam argued.

"On the contrary Carter, we can," the Navy cut in. "All the objects I built over the years should have arrived by now." She breathed out. "I always pay the bill. There is an Antarian mind-enhancer I created a while ago… it enhances brainwaves enough for simple tasks done. And the manual controls are online too."

"Oh."

"Let's go. And no Danny, that's an order, so…"

"I get it Jack." Said Colonel however wasn't listening at all. "Jack?"

"What's wrong Skipper?" Jack asked, worried at the alarmed face of the naval officer.

Several additional displays had popped up around Jamila. "The Stargate alert has been triggered just now… Someone has activated the Stargate…"

"It's probably General Hammond," Daniel guessed.

"No radio telemetry… tracing wormhole…" Jamila closed her eyes. Her whole body started to glow eerily.

"What the…"

Sam stared at the scene with shocked fascination. "Impossible… she's tracing an incoming wormhole…"

"Wormhole tracing complete." The light died and Jamila faced them again. "The wormhole is not from Assiah, but from somewhere else… pinpointing »Lanes« in Observatory map."

Suddenly, the star field disappeared and zoomed in to a single star system, connected to Antea by a winded line: The wormhole of the Stargates. "Whoever that is, he's not coming from Earth. I think we should leave."

"What?" the others asked quite dumbfounded.

"I cannot tell if somebody has come through the Stargate from here as the corresponding sensor arrays of the city are offline. If we do not want to be cut off the gate, we have to go now."

"What about our equipment ma'am?"

"Well, we can get it back after whoever came to visit gets his frustrations at a set of locked Carbonite doors."

Jack smirked. "Let's pack our bags kids."

* * *

PX5-939/Antea  
Great Bridge of Ashura  
Main Gate of Raquia Ashura  
July 01, 1998

Noon

Grabbing their waterproof backpacks from their rooms, SG-1 left the complex and locked the doors, this time having a key however: A new Antarian chip for Jamila's wrist device, giving her a permanent uplink to the city.

"Doors: Sealed. We can go." Jamila reported.

"Okay campers, let's go home."

Walking down the Great Bridge of Ashura and witnessing the fact that the rest of Ashura's bridges had resurfaced, linking the Great bridge with the rest of the city, SG-1 came to an abrupt halt at a hand sign of Jamila. They had not come far yet. "What's going on Captain?"

"Jaffa closing in. Fast. About six."

"How do you know?"

"The city occupied too much of my mental capacities, so my senses were a bit dull… but now we're outside and I can clearly sense their aurae." Jamila concentrated.

"O'Neill. Six Jaffa are a Scout unit. Whatever Goa'uld sent them, he is interested in this world." Teal'c scanned the area carefully.

Jack frowned. "So where is the head snake?"

"He or she will only appear if the team returns more or less unharmed."

"Well, in that case, time for a little hunt." Jamila got an evil, dangerous gleam in her eyes, her face grim.

The Colonel eyed her carefully. "Do you think you can do that?"

"My record is a full platoon in thirty-five minutes (note 9). Alone. And my team blew up the following one. With spotter, I can do it in a bit more than half the time I think." Suddenly, a movement caught her attention and she hissed, "Down, into the water!"

"What the…" the humans started. They never finished it. With a splash, the Swimmer Canoeist pushed them psychokinetically into the lake and jumped after them. "Down!" she hissed, causing them to dive under the shadow of the bridge. At the same time, their backpacks were ripped off them, hovering just barely over the surface. And not a moment to late, for a pair of Jaffa suddenly stomped over their heads.

As they were gone, Jack resurfaced, gasping for air. "What the hell was that for?"

"Why had it have to be the lake?!" Sam complained.

"Sorry, habit. No 1 Hideout for me is water."

Daniel cursed. "I'm all wet!" he whined.

Jamila simply smirked. "Welcome to my life, Carter, Jackson. Sir, take these." She handed Jack some electronic, waterproof binoculars. "They have x-ray, infrared and UV vision too."

"Thanks." Looking through them (and thus looking straight through the material of the bridge), he confirmed what Jamila had sensed and Teal'c had told. "You were right you two. A Jaffa Scout unit is sweeping the area," he whispered. "We're cut off the gate."

"Just a question sir, can you cover my back?" Jamila asked, a little worried.

"I _was_ actually trained as designated marksman and spotter, sniper." Jack lifted an eyebrow.

"Good, then I can get us back to the gate. Without the head honcho showing up." She glanced at the packs, which started to fly towards the lakeshore, still under the bridge. "I think we should get out of the lake. But not via the bridge, that's too dangerous."

"Are you suggesting that we swim, Captain Bartholomew?" Teal'c asked.

"Any better ideas which do not take too long?" Only her own pack had remained with them, and she snatched off the container of her rifle. Afterwards, the pack followed the others.

"No." Daniel answered, sounding down.

"Thought so." With a few well-studied moves, she put the rifle together, closed the container again and put it on like a backpack, the rifle slung over her left shoulder. "What's your call sign, sir?"

A bit surprised, Jack answered, "Ghost."

"Very well. See you in a few minutes." A flash of light, and she was gone.

"Wow. Let's go guys," he ordered, following the packs.

"Yes sir!" Sam immediately followed her CO.

Daniel groaned, but complied, swimming in the shadow of the white bridge, with Teal'c taking the rear. As they reached shore, their packs awaited them dutifully on the beach. Not too far from that, a pair of Jaffa lied on the ground, trails of blood flowing from their ears. They were dead. "Whose symbol is this, Teal'c?" Jack asked.

"It is the symbol of Nirrti, O'Neill. These two were most likely the two who were on the bridge earlier."

"Right… That snake-headed bitch again…" he grumbled.

Sam however noticed the blood and brain mass trickling from their ear holes. "Strange. Sir, it looks like they were both sniped through the left ear with some pretty strong ammo. Is that shot even possible, sir?"

Jack froze. Ear-hole-shot? Like… like the one in… Iraq! Finally, he replied grimly, "Oh, it is _very_ possible. Especially if you are a crack sniper with a knack for difficult and hard-to-see kills. Particularly if you have this rifle of hers, fuelled by alien tech. I've seen such shots before." He picked up his pack. Following his lead, SG-1 left the path, walking into the woods. Once the trees obscured them from view, Jack dropped on one knee and used the electronic binoculars to scan the woods. Four Jaffa were on an area sweep as a slightly weird-looking bush caught his eye. Changing to infrared, his instincts proved true. Jamila was kneeling on the ground, dressed in a ghillie-suit, her rifle ready. If it hadn't been for the computerized optics, he would have missed it. "Damn, she's good." He pressed the button of his radio. "Tempest, this is Ghost, do you copy?" he whispered.

"Loud and clear Ghost, and don't worry, I wear a headset, you don't have to whisper."

"Two bandits straight ahead, at twelve from you."

"All right. Stay where you are, I'll come to you after the second shot."

"Okay. Fire, fire, fire…" Switching back to enhanced visible spectrum sight, Jack could hear the characteristic click of a trigger pulled, and then the first Jaffa fell by means of another ear-shot. "Death. Death at circa 800 metres." The double click of the rifle's bolt action told him she was ready for the next shot. "Okay Tempest, target has moved. Bandit at two o'clock from you."

"Got it."

"Okay. Fire, fire, fire…" he chanted monotonously. The first shot was a perfect crack shot, especially with that prototype silent rifle she used, but the ammunition… Click. "Death. Death at circa 900." And it was a nose-shot this time. He shuddered. _"No wonder she holds the world record. And it was another shot she did like the sniper in Iraq, who busted me out of that goddamned hellhole of a POW camp…_ _Impossible… or maybe not?"_ he wondered.

"Gotcha," she hissed triumphantly. Shortly afterwards, she teleported out and reappeared in front of them. Pushing back the hood of her leaf-covered ghillie-suit, she stood to attention. "Colonel, Captain Bartholomew reporting that two thirds of enemy party are down. Awaiting orders."

"At ease. Can you take down the last two ones?" he inquired, his voice impassive.

"Does it rain in London at 5 PM?" she quipped back. "As long as you cover me, I'll be fine."

Jack turned to Teal'c. "Where would the other two be?"

"Most likely at the Stargate, O'Neill."

"Don't you think that this is more like a playground than a battlefield, sir?" Jamila wondered. Shooting the Jaffa had been _far_ too easy.

"I don't think the Goa'uld tactics include people shooting you from out of the line of sight at more than half a click, Portsmouth. Their tactics are a bit more large-scale…" Jack shook his head. "For you, that would be shooting fish in a barrel." Using the binoculars, he confirmed. "They're at the gate. These last two are securing the only way off this planet."

Jamila flung her rifle over her shoulder again. "Not for long anymore, that's for sure. Let's get to the road."

Just before the edges of the road, SG-1 came to a halt, hiding in the bushes. Jamila however leapt into a tree, on one of its lower big branches. Without any tools, she landed silently and knelt down. "Ghost, lend me your eyes. I can see only one of them," she spoke in a low voice into the headset.

Jack could hear the soft double clack of the bolt action of the rifle as he was scanning the area. "He's standing behind a tree, at eleven o'clock. I think you should take out the bandit at the Dial Home Device, Tempest."

"All right. Got him. Ready when you are."

"Okay. Bandit at half past twelve… fire, fire, fire." Click. The bullet went right through the right eye of the Jaffa… and exploded, cracking the base of his skull and turning the brain to pudding. "Yikes. Bull's-eye. Death at circa 600. So that's your secret, explosive ammunition…" On the inside, Jack was shell-shocked. The last shot invoked some old, not very pleasant memories from the time he was a POW… on that day, he was supposed to die. Instead, a sniper and his, no, make that her team had come and destroyed the camp, beginning with killing that bastard of a camp Commander exactly like this, with a perfect shot through the right eye. In the confusion the attack had caused, he and all the other prisoners busted out and ran into a British Special Ops team. The next thing he remembered, a ship's infirmary and… _"Tempest. My God, are you __that__ Tempest Portsmouth…?"_ His memory however refused him the closure of a clear answer.

"Sorry for that. Now, the idiot behind the tree… where are these fucking aura-radiation filter glass– ah!" Putting on a pair of sophisticated, alien-tech goggles, Jamila smirked. "Much better, last bandit on radar. I prefer one-hit-kills, hence the micro-bombs. And by the way, they are too weak to actually let the skull explode, given the right point of entry. Changing magazine to calibre 12.7x99 mm NATO (note 10), bullet only."

Jack gulped. Calibre 12.7x99 mm NATO, also known as calibre point 50, Browning Machine Gun, armour-piercing variant, was used by snipers for long-range shots, hard/armoured targets… or shooting someone behind a tree as example for a more creative usage. "Ready Tempest?"

Clack-clack. The topmost bullet found its way into the rail-gun sniper rifle, powered by its owner. Jack still was a bit overwhelmed at the prospect of the heavily modified Accuracy International _Arctic Warfare_ sniper rifle. "Whenever you say the word, Ghost," the sniper replied.

"Bandit at eleven o'clock. Fire, fire, fire," he recited the old signal. Click. In a rain of wooden splinters, the bullet pierced the tree, hitting the Jaffa, who had stood with his head in profile to the tree, straight through the left ear, killing him. "Death. Death at circa 600."

"Ghost, do you read? Enemy party successfully terminated. Area is clear. Awaiting instructions." Jamila stood up, leaning against the tree trunk and dissected her rifle, placing the parts into its case.

"Come down. Mission complete."

"Yes sir." Landing with catlike grace and taking her pack from Teal'c, Jamila stood in front of them again and packed her ghillie-suit into her pack. "Area is clear. Way back to the Stargate is cleared and secure."

"Well done, Portsmouth."

Sam and Daniel were… horrified. The smart, distinguished officer they had met this morning had wiped out the six Jaffa as if they were some paper targets at the firing range, displaying a ruthless, power-enjoying streak, who took her shots for more important than what she killed. _"Or maybe not,"_ Sam thought. The sniper's face slowly lost the adrenalin-fuelled smirk, replacing it with an ashen look of dread. "Are you all right, ma'am? You seem a bit off."

"I will be. Dang. I forgot that sniping is a thrill ride with hangover," she cursed and then sighed. "Power over life and death feels good when you're having it, but afterwards… it leaves a foul aftertaste, Carter. Be happy that you are not a sniper."

"I wouldn't like it anyway ma'am."

"Okay kids, enough. Let's get our stuff and then go home." Jack turned to Ashura again. Less than twenty minutes later, SG-1 stood in front of the Stargate, the dead Jaffa moved to the side. "Dial the gate, Daniel," Jack ordered.

"Okay." Daniel started dialling the familiar address, Auriga, Cetus, Centaurus, Cancer, Scutum, Eridanus and Point of Origin: Antea.

"Oh Portsmouth?" Jack still had the powerful binoculars in his hand.

"Yes sir?"

"Can I keep these?"

"As long as you are my spotter, yes sir. These _are_ the binoculars for my spotter. And I really would like to compete with you in a sniper war game if we ever find the time…"

"_When_ we find the time, Captain. I still need to assess your skills for the record." The unstable vortex whooshed out, forming a stable wormhole. "Would you do us the honours?"

"Why thank you, sir." Jamila pulled up the right sleeve of her combat suit and punched in her new, personal iris code. "Receiving answering signal. We can go."

"Well then campers, time to go home." Steering the MALP and the FRED through the event horizon, SG-1 stepped through the Stargate side-by-side, going home.

* * *

**Notes**

**1** Taking the wind out of his sails – Naval Term: To sail in a way that steals the wind from another ship. Figuratively: a statement which leaves you stunned, speechless and/or without arguments.

**2** Tiramisu. Italian cream dessert, made of Mascarpone, Clotted cream, Eggs, Espresso-and-Amaretto-soaked Ladyfingers covered with Cocoa powder.

Since Jamila cannot drink classic filtered coffee at all, and tends to get hyper by caffeine, the situation is rather ironic.

**3** Mess Officer: Synonym for NATO OF-5 (O-6 in the US Armed Forces) ranked officer like Colonel or Navy Captain.

**4** Originally Norse runes were ideographic; so each rune stood for an idea. In High Antarian, each term/word stands for a concept/idea (hearing gives you ALL associations possible with the concept), making the language ideophonetic.

**5** Caffeine from tea.

**6** Scouse: A Liverpudlian form of stew. Synonym for the Liverpudlian/Merseyside accent, dialect and Liverpudlians (Scousers) in general.

**7** Antarians have healing powers (skill varies), that's why this trap is so strong. The idea behind the force field is to knock the average Antarian (not a Thunder-elemental, that's rare actually) out long enough to die from blood loss without the self-healing powers kicking in – for that you must at least be asleep, if not conscious and wide awake. Or until the guards find you.

**8** Final Fantasy XII™: The core of Giruvegan. Here: the extern parts of an Antarian computer core which connect it to the rest of the computer; composed of extreme high density crystals. Size depends on the needed capacity. Since Ashura is a high-level outpost, the size of the Megacryst is fairly extensive; forming a ca. 4 m high dome over the core brain.

**9** Alone, a good sniper takes out a platoon of 30-40 soldiers in ca one half up to two hours, given enough ammunition, equipment, hiding space and psychological warfare. Also, a sniper usually is an expert in setting up traps and preparing the ground in their favour. A spotter covers the sniper's back and is a sniper him-/herself, usually equipped with an assault rifle and a very good pair of binoculars, marking the targets, warning the sniper of threats and protecting his/her partner, cutting down the needed time and lowering the risks.

**10** Calibre 12.7x99 mm NATO Standard. Developed originally for the M2 Browning Machine Gun. check: http:// en . wikipedia . org / wiki / . 50 _ BMG (without spaces) for details.

* * *

**AN: PHEW! FINALLY! I finished this monster. I hope you liked my introduction of Jamila.  
And thanks to my little bro, Pagosto, for the infos on snipers and their efficiency. (He was once considered becoming one.)**

**Coming up Next: Aftershock I.** Jack and Jamila discuss their previously unknowingly shared history.

**Visit my user page for my poll for the next episode, "In The Line Of Duty". You can decide what will happen to Jolinar!**  
Stay tuned!


	4. Aftershock I

**Disclaimer: I wish I was MGM, Roland Emmerich, Sony E, and all these other cool guys so the stupid SJ DJ innuendos would stop and Stargate would throw us a curve ball for shipper's sake. Since I'm not all these people, I have to write this weird Alternate Timeline (not AU!) story - I own Jamila and her merry bunch of ****weirdoes.**

**Summary/Teaser: ****Jamila and Jack discuss at his place their pasts and set out for house hunting the next day. First mentioning of Jack's family. First-name basis between Jamila and Jack established, due to their similarities in personal life and career.**

**AN: Chapter title was inspired by a fic series called Aftershocks (forgot the author).**

**

* * *

**

**Year 2: Aftershock I**

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 28  
SGC Control Room/Embarkation Room  
July 02, 1998  
0100 Zulu

Lt Graham Simmons yawned. The night watch was always something he was not really fond of and yet, SG-1 still was out there and in a few hours due for a report, as were two other teams: It had to be done. Just as he thought it couldn't get more boring, the Stargate sprung to life, triggering the alert. Quickly, he picked up his headset and called into the PA: "Unscheduled offworld activation!" and hastily closed the iris.

At the same time, the yawning Major Louis Ferretti, having this night watch over the base shuffled down the stairs and came to a halt behind him. "What is it, Simmons?"

"Receiving IDC sir. It's SG-1, Captain Bartholomew's personal code."

"Open the iris."

"Yes sir." Pressing the corresponding keys, the titanium shield complied and retracted on the lieutenant's command, giving way for the returning SG-1 and their equipment. Then the Stargate shut down.

Tired but smiling, Lou grabbed the microphone. "Welcome home SG-1. Report to infirmary for post-mission exam. Debriefing with General Hammond at 0900 Zulu."

Jack, still tired – and wet – from their swimming session on Antea, noticed for the first time _who_ actually had watch on base. "Ferretti? I cannot believe they left the base to you!"

"Good evening to you too Colonel. With the exception of you and Captain Bartholomew, all Colonel-ranked officers are off base, and since SG-2 leaves first thing in the morning, I have the glorious job of waiting for those who are expected to return _in the middle of the night_! I suggest you all won't let Doc Fraiser wait and get some shut-eye. Good night." He walked out of the room, determined to get at least another three hours of sleep before his upcoming mission.

"To you too Ferretti, to you too," Jack murmured. "Well campers, I suggest we get dry now. And poked at us with some needles." He returned his MP5 to the waiting SF, as did the rest of them.

Jamila handed the SF her SIG and rifle-box. "Great. Another vampire." Jamila groaned. "And I still got to clean my rifle and check on my deliveries."

"What do you want to indicate with the vampire statement, Captain Bartholomew?" Teal'c wondered. "As far as I know, Dr Fraiser is human."

Jamila let out an exasperated sigh, still a bit cranky after using her slightly rusty shooting skills. "It's a saying, Teal'c. 'All doctors are vampires', used synonymously for bloodsucker. It's because of the blood samples they love to take."

Meanwhile, they made their way towards the infirmary.

"Thank you. But the examination does not usually include taking blood samples," he answered.

"Trust me, I _will_ get sucked of." Jamila shook her head.

"Oh yes, you will, ma'am." Med-Captain Dr Janet Fraiser awaited them, pointing to the corresponding examination cubicles and followed the naval officer into hers. "Although I have to admit that _your_ medical file is a bit of a hard read, especially the warning not to use needles unless necessary and under no circumstances to use restraints on you. There was a list of heavy-duty drugs to use instead which apparently knock you out and I wonder why."

Jamila took a glance to the side, seeing Jack's silhouette on the curtain and sighed. This was certainly nothing to be proud of, but it had to be told before anyone found out by other means. "I have a confirmed phobia against restraining, especially with chains. I hate needles since I was fifteen and deemed something you can study and I have high-class self-healing abilities which render anything but IVs useless. Hence the use of the high-pressure injector I created from memory," she explained quietly.

"Ah. Well, fortunately, I have everything you might need here, including… well… that stuff which apparently recharges your energy reserves…" Janet trailed off, still a bit shocked about that fact.

"Why can you not just say that I am a meta-energy junkie who consumes a 25 percent solution of _cocaine_ on a regular basis? It's not like I am addicted you know…" her patient scoffed, peeling herself out of the environment suit.

"I didn't say that. But Lord Tilbury's discovery about natural drugs is a bit… disturbing…" Janet started to do the necessary parts of the check-up.

"I know. Humans don't get actually addicted to the drug, but to the meta-energy released on consummation… Ouch! Hey, I said _no needles_!"

Just in this moment, Janet had attempted to get a blood sample and in response, the Antarian made psychokinetically a knot into the syringe needle. "Hey! How am I supposed to know if you are okay if I cannot get one?"

"Use the high-pressure injector, an empty capsule and set the thing on reverse," she answered monotonously. "Honestly, you're worse than the men on my family, and they are all medics. And before you ask, Lord Tilbury is my _father_. Otherwise I would probably have been dissected on discovery. Or deemed a junkie later on."

"Oh." Following the instructions, Janet was finally able to draw a sapphire blood sample. It immediately turned red. "Wow. Now that's something to see… No chance in hell that you can run away from that, Colonel," she called.

"Damn. I hate needles too," it came from the other side of the curtain, causing some chuckles all over the room.

"Well ma'am, comparing the rest of your bio-signs to the ones of your med-file says that you're as healthy as a whale in water. I still need to check on your transformed blood sample nonetheless. Why red now?"

"Self-defence mechanism. I am a bit tired and low on energy; otherwise you wouldn't see it… I changed the tritanium to iron, that's all."

Janet nodded, she had suspected as much already. "Okay. Well, come back after you had a shower and a snack, I'll hook you up to your 'battery charge' then."

Putting on the offered hospital shrubs, Jamila jumped of the bed. "That was all? My old CMO was worse… all these cardiovascular and breathing tests…"

"Don't worry ma'am, they come tomorrow, after you had lunch," Janet smirked. "And if you and Daniel try to sneak out one more time Colonel, you get exactly the same testing routine as our resident diver. For at least a year." She paused, thinking. "Although, these tests make some sense after all… that's it, SG-1. You all report at 1100 hrs today for a full exam. You are all due for a physical at the end of the week anyway."

"Thanks. Misery loves company after all," Jamila mumbled, shuffling out of the room.

The others groaned.

Janet stepped into the next cubicle. "So Colonel, did you behave?"

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 20  
Commissary  
July 02, 1998  
0130 Zulu

As Jack finally came to grab a snack, Jamila sat on the chair she had occupied one-and-a-half days ago, poking at a piece of cake, lost in thought. "I hope for your own good that's not the last piece of cake, Tempest," he joked, sitting down with his own piece and a mug of hot water. "Can I have some?" he asked, pointing to her stash of tea bags.

"What? Sir. Of course, but…"

"What?"

"I never deemed you a Tea Person." She pulled that half-smile of hers again, albeit tiredly as she handed him one. "Care to explain?"

"Iraq. 1991. Since then, I haven't been able to brew a decent cup," he answered, returning the resigned expression and placing the tea bag into his mug. "I never seem to be in the right mind for it."

"Oh." That sent her thoughts into a new direction. "Well, if it calms you, if it hadn't been for nearly three years spent as an aide-de-camp after Iraq, I would not be able to do it either I think…"

"Well, if you don't mind making an extra cup tea every time you do, I wouldn't mind drinking it…"

Jamila raised an eyebrow.

"_Oh my god, how corny did that just sound? As if I would hit on a married woman!"_ he thought, running his frustrated fingers through his already ruffled hair. "That didn't come out right…"

Jamila grinned and took the tea bag out of his mug. "Oh, _I_ understood perfectly, Colonel. You see, I know enough about men to know that they usually mean their words literally in such situations. And _you_ absolutely know my marital status. Anyway, High Tea at 5 PM alone is no fun. As long as you don't mind playing chess…"

Surprised, Jack nodded, cutting off a piece of his cake. "I'd like that."

"Okay. Tea's at 0700 and 1700 hrs. Sharp." Finishing her cake and tea, the Lady got up, picking up her tray and tea. "Well, then… good night sir."

"Good night, Portsmouth."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 23  
Captain Bartholomew's Laboratory-Office  
July 02, 1998  
0700 Zulu

Jack shuffled into the rather spacey office, not caring where he put his feet – he was still tired. But this proved to be a bit careless as he nearly fell over a box if it wasn't for the tenant of the room who literally caught him with a glance and set him back to his feet. "Thanks Portsmouth." Remembering his slip of manners from yesterday, he added, "Good morning Captain."

Jamila, who sat on a chair in front of her desk, let her hands down. "Good morning to you too sir. Care for a cup of tea?" On Jamila's desk stood a dark cyan iron teapot, obviously Japanese, and two china tea cups, English style in plain bone white.

He grinned lightly. "I'd like that."

Promptly, the diver poured him a steaming cup. "Milk, sugar?"

"Two lumps please. And yes, just a little. Is that black tea?" he asked as he accepted the cup. "Thanks."

"No. Oolong. Fancy Superior Choice, if I remember correctly… yes. It's a Formosa tea, a Taiwanese," Jamila recited, pouring herself some of the light-coloured hot brew and applied a lump of sugar and some milk.

Jack nearly spluttered, but managed to keep it in. "Such fine tea and then you offer me milk and sugar?"

"It's 0700 in the morning (note 1), and anyway, the bag tea you drank yesterday? 100 grams cost circa ₤ 50… honestly, I never ever _had_ to care about money. And the tea is directly from my family's company, so it's not that much of a problem…" she trailed off and then sipped her tea. "Sandwich? Don't worry, they're fresh." She pointed to a plate beside the teapot, filled with sandwiches.

"Why not," he snatched a few. "So, what's all this stuff?"

Jamila grinned and refilled her cup. "That sir… is the Stargazer." As he didn't answer, she went on. "Antarian semi-mobile deep space sky observatory, a small version of Ashura Sky Observatory. It creates a dynamic… I hope I am not confusing you sir."

"No, no, no, it's alright I guess. I like watching the stars too. And… wow! a dynamic star map?" he exclaimed.

"Self-calculating dynamic live-feed star observatory, yes. _That_ was my ticket in, the ultimate finished piece of Antarian technology we have so far, capable of communicating with Earth technology. The only problem are the satellites yet… we had to go with ground-based Antarian sensor arrays for now. I was planning on asking the General for a room for it today."

"Cool…" Jack's thoughts were racing, a look of pure awe on his face… until Jamila chuckled. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing, just…" she smiled. "Only one kind of people reacts like that on the prospect of the ultimate dream of any astrometry specialized astronomer, the Stargazer map. And that is another astrometry freak. Your choice sir, either you fess up your degrees now or I'll tease it out of you. And I can make flag officers cower. I am an ex-aide-de-camp."

Jack gulped, knowing what the notion meant: An aide-de-camp was after all the senior PA Officer of a flag officer… and Jamila's post had been no-one less but the First Sea Lord! "You got me. I have a DSc in Astronomy, same field as you, Astrometry and Observing Astronomy, and a DSc in Aerospace Engineering, both _summa cum laude_ (note 2) too. I still don't know where I had the time for that from."

Jamila shook her head, still displaying her characteristic half-smile. "Same here. But after all, I had two years more to fool around at academy…"

Now it was Jack's place to snicker. "Yeah… what the hell gave you the idea to enter the military at that age?"

"My grandfather, the father of my father… the original Lord Tilbury. He was the boss of the Royal Navy Medical Branch. And my maternal grandfather was Navy too… the Bartholomews are a military family, that's how we came to honours. At sea."

The ex-testing-pilot smirked on. "And you now take it into space."

"Yeah… that reminds me of Heinlein though…"

"Huh? You mean the US Sci-Fi author?" he wondered.

"Yes. _An Ordeal in Space_… to be more precise, the _Prayer for Travellers_," she stated.

"Can you recite it?"

"Word by word. It was a challenge in academy by my husband, who can learn more modern one-to-four strophe poems by heart in a week… I am sorry, I am trailing off."

"It's okay; I just like to hear it again… somehow, I just cannot remember the words," he confessed.

She nodded. "All right… Here we go.  
_'Almighty Ruler of the All,  
Whose power extends to great and small,  
Who guides the Stars with steadfast law,  
Whose least Creation fills with awe –  
Oh grant Thy mercy and Thy grace  
To those who venture into Space.' _Robert Anson Heinlein: _An Ordeal in Space_, 1951.  
I think this suits the SGC even more than the NASA for which it was written."

Jack blinked and smiled. "Yeah, I think so… it really fits."

"So…" Jamila got up and threw the used tea away, washing the pot in the sink in the corner. "You and I have nearly walked the same road it seems. Astronomy, Special Operations…" she said as she sat down again.

"Stargate Command, yes. But I take it that you were not Black Ops." He emptied his tea cup.

Her face was impassive, but in her eyes shone a glimmer of regret. "No. Far worse. I am a sniper, and I am not a boasting person… but there is no better sniper in the UK than this one."

Jack groaned. "Oh please no…"

Jamila's mouth was a thin, grim line. "Red Ops. S & R (note 3) Rescue Shots, Hostage Situation. Sniper Situation. Assassination. Covert Ops. The whole blood-stained package."

"Sorry. But that's not what I meant… I have a question actually." Jack didn't know how to breach the subject if she was the Tempest from that ship in Iraq… after all, why would a bunch of British SBS operatives get a bunch of US flyboys out?

"Shoot."

"Have you ever shot someone through his own scope? I mean just because… all the shots on that planet were crack shots: ear, eye, nose…"

"I prefer them, they're more difficult to detect. And yes, I have. Just once." She could feel his anxiety and curiosity even through her mental shielding. _'What do you want?'_ she thought, irritated.

Okay, that was a step into the right direction. "When and where? If you don't mind."

"January 02, 1991, Southern Iraq… why so curious?"

"Please God, no…" he whispered. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I am!" she snapped. "That _was_ my world record after all! 2601 metres or 2845 yards, kill. Why is that so important?"

Jack left out the breath he had been holding. "Because I think that this shot of yours… saved my life Milady."

"Wait a second… were you the one in the courtyard of that POW camp? The one the Camp CO tried to shoot?" Realization washed over her, as it did to Jack.

"Yes. Good grief! I thought I would never meet the one…" he said, shell-shocked.

"Why would that be important?"

He grinned, placing the teacup back on the desk. "To thank you… for saving my life."

»You are very welcome Colonel«, she answered in High Antarian. »But I sense you still have a question…«.

"Your call sign, 'Tempest'. I know I've heard it somewhere already, and as I saw you shooting these Jaffa, I realized that it must have been you who brought me a piece of cake in that ship's infirmary and said that I was safe." Jack's face was set into grim lines, but the memory of the rare piece of cake, double chocolate strawberry cheesecake, and the female officer talking to him about family pulled the corners of his mouth oh so slightly. "The last thing that gave you away was that you had said back then that your friends _call_ you Tempest. So again, thank you."

"That was you again?" she asked, astonished. He nodded. "Even if it would have been someone else I would have done it, letting someone rot in a place like that is just plainly wrong. Like I said before, you are very welcome Colonel."

"Maybe we should do something about that." Suddenly, trusting her seemed not so hard anymore. The look in her eyes as he asked for Iraq was enough to know that she was talking from experience, apart from her phobia of being chained to something – it had been most likely a prison cell wall in the first place. And they were equal in rank, in every sense of the word; after all, her file read that she made it to the rank of Captain just after her 37th birthday, giving her about the same amount of years serving on the OF-5 rank as himself…

"About what?" This was definitely a situation just as weird as teleporting out of the way of that drunkard's car and finding herself back in the shoemaker's shop 26 years ago.

"You calling me Colonel. We're rank equals, and you saved both my life and my sanity," he went on.

"Valid point, but what else should I call you? We're not exactly familiar with each other you know…" she mused.

"Well, in that case I must duly apologize for my lack of manners and introduce myself, madam. I cannot believe that I would ever do this again," he stated as he got to his feet. "I am Colonel Jonathan James O'Neill, son of Cathlynn Elizabeth and Jonathan James Patrick O'Neill. I serve in the United States Air Force. Pleasure to meet you ma'am." He slightly bent his head in respect.

"The pleasure is all mine good sir. One is known as Captain Jamila Sarah Miranda Elizabeth Mary Lady Bartholomew, Marchioness of Portsmouth, heir to the Dukedom of Dover and the viscountcy of Tilbury, Royal Navy," she answered, a slight grin on her face. But it faded quickly. "Wait… did you just say your father's name is Jonathan James Patrick _O'Neill_?" She stood up and paced around.

"Yes, why do you ask?" he wondered as he sat down again.

"As in… _Lieutenant General_ Jonathan James Patrick O'Neill, USAF, AWACS project, by any chance?" She turned around, surprise written all over her face.

"Yes, what's wrong with that? You're an Admiral's granddaughter after all!" he exclaimed.

That was a bit much. She started to laugh quietly. "Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha… you really should see your face. That's a perfectly valid question since… I know _Lieutenant General_ Jonathan James Patrick O'Neill personally." she grinned. Like the proverbial Cheshire cat. Again.

"Wait…" How many times could someone take the wind out of your sails? Very often. Jack's wound-up mood was put to a calm instantly. "You know my dad?" he inquired dumbfounded.

"He's an old friend of mine. Good Lord, you are _Jonathan's_ Jack…" she smirked on. "Yes… I can see the similarities now."

Pulling himself together, Jack went back to his initial intention to remove the barrier of mistrust. "Well, in that case even more… Call me Jack, Portsmouth."

Jamila went over to her desk and picked up some papers. "Only under one condition."

"Which one?" he frowned.

"Drop the Portsmouth. If I have to call my old friend's son by his name, if I shall call you _Jack_, then it would be appropriate that _you_ call me… Jamila." She gave him another smile, but this time, it was the first full, non-sarcastic smile she had shown anyone since she arrived.

Knowing how rare this was and knowing it was time for the briefing he got to his feet and returned the favour. "I think I can manage that… Jamila. Well, we should not let the General wait, or what do you think?"

"Absolutely not. However, I would prefer if we resume this discussion somewhere more private. After briefing. And getting our physical done."

He led her out of the room. "Yikes. Yeah, absolutely. That would actually make some good conversation over tea, don't you think?"

"Aye."

SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 27  
SGC Briefing Room  
July 02, 1998  
0905 Zulu

"So, what can you tell me about PX5-939?" Hammond and SG-1 sat around the table just like two days ago.

"The world is named Antea, which roughly means "the Light Observatory". Lot of trees and a gigantic lake which is as clean as drinking water from the faucet, sir. Two blue suns in the sky which give the world a nice climate. No big animals. And a really fancy Antarian city on the lake ground which name is Ashura," Jack summarized.

"Sir, Ashura is more or less operational," Sam added. "Thanks to Captain Bartholomew, most of the systems have been set to manual access, including the Great Observatory of Ashura. Apart from the primary systems which need a controller in the Mainframe room, it is only a matter of translation."

"What do you mean with more or less, Captain?" the General wondered.

"Sir, if I may?" Jamila cut in. After an encouraging gesture of the base CO, she started to explain about the lack of the two brain cores, the one for the city, Ashura, and the Antea core for the observatory, and the need for a full technopath to compensate the lack of.  
"Basically, without someone like me, the city and the observatory run at 65 percent power/ability output maximum, stat. And without someone playing city controller, the systems of the city won't do anything at all for you, but fortunately, I have already created a suitable EEG amplifier for humans, enabling a somewhat limited access to technopathic interfaces like a Controller Holographic Antigravity Platform. These should have come with today's delivery of Technology," she finished.

"I see, later about that. Doctor Jackson, did you find anything of interest?" the flag officer asked.

"Not really sir. Only that the basis of Antarian technology is shockingly life itself, it's biologic as you have heard already, but if I think now about it, I should not question the wisdom of a people who used it for longer than humanity exists. What I saw told of utmost respect towards the living city they created, so I just will wonder why biotech and not electronics. And about Antarians, the city was devoid of most cultural references but some writings on the wall, even the library was empty. And it seems from the books the Captain gave me that the British already did extensive research on their language… about that, why can Jack understand High Antarian just like that," he snapped his fingers, "and I struggle even with the vocabulary Milady?"

Jack shrugged. "I have no idea, Space monkey."

"You were born with it." Jamila shot him a glance. "The sleeping ability to understand High Antarian awakens the moment it is seen or heard and is tied to the type of intelligence you hail from. And your mind set."

"What?" The humans at the table were speechless.

"Just a question Jackson, do you know who Lord Tilbury is?" she smirked. "It would help understanding my point."

Finally, the archaeologist snapped out of it, only to do a jaw-drop routine. "No way… are you talking about the world-class medical genius, covering so many fields of medicine that people lost track of his life-time work…"

"That one. He's my father." She cleared her throat. "A world expert on autism, IQ types, awareness and sensory – psychiatrics; neurology, and the genetic reasons behind many a situation. A great deal into orthopaedics – for his own sake – and his newest hobby is pandemics like AIDS. And _The_ authority on Antarian physiology and abilities from a scientific point of view. One of his first works however was the Intelligence type theory, which he still teaches at the Imperial College London."

"Ma'am, I've never heard of that theory, can you explain?" Sam jumped into the conversation.

"I rather go with examples, like my father. At this table sits a good collection of different type-combos of Intelligence. Logic-analytic type is Jackson, Carter, you are Intuitive-logic and… well, judging from the fact he understands me, Jack's type is of the rarest of all, the same as mine, my husband's and my family's: Intuitive-analytic intelligence. The ability to pick up clues and understand immediately, without the effort of thinking consciously." She exhaled audibly. "Apparently, whoever is truly into that last combo of Intelligence types is able to understand High Antarian with little effort. Key is high-level intuition. And about Teal'c, he is a Jaffa."

"Captain, what's your IQ?" Hammond was set slightly on edge with that much information.

"Do you really want to know?" she mumbled, and he nodded. "234 performance level. Intuitive-analytic intelligence appears usually more often over a performance level of 205, unless you are autistic."

"I see. Colonel, Captain Carter? IQ please."

"198 points, sir," the astrophysicist replied.

"Sir…"

"No buts Colonel, that's an order."

"Yes sir. 210 performance level. And no comments Space monkey, I like myself the way I am," he snarled.

"What do you think Bartholomew?"

"Just proves my point sir. He has the ability to understand. And it will be _extremely_ difficult for Dr Jackson to try and learn High Antarian. I rather help the Colonel, sorry, Jack developing his High Antarian."

"Do that. And find out if there are more who can understand on this base. And before you protest Colonel, it is not an option, it's an order. You are going to learn Antarian language." He gathered his papers. "Well, all things considered, good job, SG-1. I believe you have a physical in half an hour to go. After that, you have a few days downtime. Report in next Monday. Captain Bartholomew?"

"Yes sir?"

"I would suggest you find a place to live over here ASAP. You shouldn't stay on base if you don't have to."

"Yes sir."

"Dismissed, everyone." He stood up.

The team got to their feet, the officers standing to attention. "Sir!"

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 28  
Infirmary, CMO's office  
July 02, 1998  
1300 Zulu

After getting the physical done – and getting abused as pincushion – Jack caught up with Janet. "So, how are we?"

"Well, as far as I can tell, everyone is in top shape, including your newest team-mate." Janet checked through Jamila's file. "Although… her strength and speed are amazing, not to mention her breathing capabilities. That last one doesn't surprise me though, sir. She's a frogwoman."

"Yeah, that was pretty impressive. She's as strong as Teal'c… and faster than me." Jack shook his head. "But I think there is more behind her powers than just cosmic voodoo…"

"True. She admitted to me that she is capable of enhancing her physical performance by putting her mind, and thus her mental powers into it. But that strength she demonstrated at lifting weights…" Janet flipped the file to the first page. "It comes from something different, (and now I know why her weight is so off for someone that tall and lean). It's the _density_ of her muscles."

"Pardon?" Jack was in no mood for confusion.

"Her bones are far lighter than a humans; most likely they are made of that Carbonite material her combat suit is made of, in a weird fibre crystal variant, making her lighter than a human her size. But her muscles are as strong and dense as if she is living under about three times of earth's gravity, maybe a bit less. It results in putting her weight back to that of a _man_ her size and stature. I think that is a consequence of her transformation into an alien." Janet made a few more notes.

"How does she keep that up? I mean, she never left earth until yesterday."

"She wears body weights in her training apparently. Ankle and wrist weights, a weighted suit. Similar effects as gravity. The effects of gravity we have seen already with the teams who stayed longer off-world in higher gravity." She closed the file. "Anything else?"

Jack sighed. "How about _my_ mileage, doc?"

"Well Colonel, you and your parachutist knees are still good to go, but don't ask me how long it will take until you are grounded permanently… I would recommend that you take the next promotion when that time comes." Piling the files, Janet looked up again. "Was that all, sir?"

Jack cringed. The next rank was Brigadier General fortunately/unfortunately. "Yes. Thanks doc." He stood up.

"You're welcome," she replied as he left.

SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 27  
General Hammond's office  
July 02, 1998  
1315 Zulu

As Jack came down to talk about Jamila's performance on the mission – and dreading the corresponding report already, sniper shots are a pain in the ass – the door was ajar, and said sniper's voice floated through the opening.

"…and unfortunately, that kind of technology needs a lot of space and energy, more than I anticipated," the Antarian argued.

"Well Captain, you don't need to get so passionate about it. I anticipated the problem since they told us of the offer to use both you _and_ the Stargazer computer. The room for it is prepared as we speak." Hammond was more than a little amused at the sharp argument she had given him, speaking of rhetorical skill when truly needed. _"My-my, same fiery spirit as one Colonel I know…"_

"What?! And why didn't stop me the moment I said Stargazer? It would have saved a lot of energy, sir…" Disbelief shocked her face.

"It would, but this way I got an image of your verbal skill set. Just out of curiosity, ever spoken in front of some greater audience?" he inquired.

The disbelief faded quickly into a facial expression more appropriate for a mess officer. "My first lecture in naval warfare, basic level, sir. Which level is the room and why was the Stargazer not delivered there but to my office?"

"It's also Sub-Level 23, to the right of your current office, the room on the end of the corridor; and we thought you would like to check on it."

"I see, thank you sir. Is that all?"

"Yes Captain, dismissed."

"Sir." Jamila left the room, passing the Colonel. "Jack, try the next time just to knock on the door, sir."

"I'll see to it… Jamila. What was that about?" he asked.

"Stargazer needs an extra room, fortunately, we got one. See you for tea."

"Yeah," he answered, and then she was gone.

"Jack. Have a seat and close the door." Hammond gestured to a chair.

"Yes sir." He fell into the chair and sighed.

"So, what is it, Colonel? And why are you so familiar with her so suddenly?" the balding man asked.

Jack didn't flinch an inch under his CO's stern gaze. This was too important. "Sir, I have to report that I have new information concerning Captain Jamila Bartholomew…"

"Since when?"

"On that mission we had just now sir. Her methods and skill as sniper stirred up some memories and arose my suspicions about her identity, they were too similar with those of a sniper I met once in Iraq, and this morning she confirmed that she is that sniper."

"And what has that to do with trusting her?" Hammond didn't like being confused.

Deciding to set things straight, he didn't hesitate. "She saved my life sir."

"What, on the mission?"

"No sir. I wouldn't even be the one who led a team through the Stargate on the very first Abydos mission if it wasn't for a certain blue-haired, purple-eyed teleporting sniper, shooting the guy who wanted to shoot yours truly."

"Colonel, I hope you are not joking. Where and when was that?" the older man demanded.

"Sir, I was rarely as serious as of now. It was in Iraq, January 02, 1991. She was on the team which busted the POW camp I was in. On that day the camp commander had decided that he was fed up with me and wanted to shoot me in the courtyard. Instead, he fell off the balcony, with an armour-piercing bullet in his head, shot through his own scope." Trying to reel in his emotions, he added quietly, "And on top of that, she's a long-time friend of my father, and that man rarely misjudges a character for such a long period."

George was speechless, but then again, if old General O'Neill trusted her… "I see. So another question has been answered, right?"

"Yes sir. And I think that going through the Stargate is the only way she can find closure." He shot the glass map window a glance, staring at the gate. "Daniel mentioned she said that sometimes perfect is not enough… I think for her finding answers is far more important. And on top of that, I have _never_ seen such a good sniper and designated marksman in all my life sir. She's too valuable an ally to send her away."

Contemplating all of that information, George Hammond came to a decision. "Very well. If you think we can trust her–"

"No sir. I know I can trust her." Jack was in no mood to play.

Unfazed, the General continued, "In that case we will put up with her, but I await your report on the mission ASAP."

Jack got up and stood rather leisurely to attention. "Yes sir."

"Dismissed." After his 2IC left the room, George shook his head. "This is certainly the weirdest addition to this command so far… I wonder how it will play out."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 23  
Stargazer Laboratory  
July 02, 1998  
1345 Zulu

"_Oh confound it_! I said **high voltage high energy**, you idiots!" The excessive yelling was indicator enough for Jack where to find the Stargazer and its master. Just then, Siler and Carter dashed past him pushing a cart with various electronic parts on it. "Hi sir!"

"_**Sergeant**_!"

"Coming!"

"Sounds like someone could use a cup of tea, huh…" Dodging all the boxes on the floor and the technicians scurrying around like mad chicken, Jack entered the former storage room, as big as the isolation rooms of the infirmary. In the middle, under the floating SBS operator, was some kind of crystal cluster, or maybe a seed since the same vines as in Ashura grew from it, grabbing various things on the way and putting everything in order. Siler placed the new energy equipment on the floor and hushed to the door, helping Sam installing the security system for the room. "Wow. So that's how you create living tech."

"Jack. Yes, with crystal seeds. Come over here, it's not a good idea to stand there… Be careful you fool, they're sensitive until they have hardened!" she yelled at another technician who was unpacking a box, just in the way of another set of vines; she 'grabbed' them all, boxes and people, psychokinetically and set them around herself, into something like a comfort zone. "Finally." The vines grew further, covering the walls with a shiny web, embedding themselves into the floor, walls and ceiling and locking some metal/crystal staffs on wall and ceiling, connecting the computer and its crystals to the electric net of the base with the high-level equipment. When the light of growth faded, a circle like in Ashura's megacryst formed in one of the corners; the crystal however was still not grown around, like a curtain pushed back. As last step, the seed transformed into a Controller platform, on which she landed with a tapping sound. "What do you think?"

"Nice. Well, I was just wondering if that offer for tea was still open…"

"As long as you do me a favour and tell me some good realtors in the area. I need a place to stay over here… and I hate apartments," she admitted sourly.

"I think I can manage that. Are you finished here?" he asked.

"In half an hour I think." Meanwhile, the technicians were shuffling out. "Carter, there's no point in playing with a computer without Windows, so Stargazer without Stars-around-the-clock Extreme won't work either; and the system won't be finished installing until the day after tomorrow."

"Shit. Whoops, sorry ma'am." All of a sudden, Sam felt like a child being caught with the hand in the cookie jar. "Anyway, the security measures you asked for are ready; you just need to input the necessary data." She shot her a hopeful look.

Jamila snickered. "I am immune to puppy eyes, Captain. Otherwise I would not be able to handle my bunch of misfits at home, especially my dear husband. But don't worry; I have orders to give you limited access."

"Oh. When?"

Pulling out a shiny glass/crystal board with a blue, metallic grip on the right, she answered, "Now." Hand shapes appeared on the board: It was a scanner. "Put your hands in the shapes, stare at the board and wait until the signal sound."

"Wait… what is actually scanned?"

"Biometric data like your hands, iris patterns and retinas, your EEG and finally your aura and your mental signature. You can fake everything but the last two. At least on earth." Still holding out the board, she sighed, "Look, I really would like to get some things done before I call it a day, so would you please stop the goldfish-routine and get over with it?"

"Sorry." Doing as being instructed, Sam got registered.

"Limited Access user No 0001 registered. Welcome Captain Carter to Stargazer. Security system online," the artificial voice of Stargazer declared.

"Good. Well, in two days the rest of the system should be online, and the uplink to NORAD too, so we will be operational at the end of the day after tomorrow." She clapped her hands, and all the empty boxes closed, piled themselves and shooed out of the room. "As long as MSgt Siler puts in my new door."

"Ah, about that…" Jack cut in. "He said he'll put it in tonight so that no-one gets him with any other maintenance. And by the way Carter, why don't you join us for tea? I think it could be fun."

"I'm sorry sir, but I really need to finish some reports. And how about that you work on your backlog–"

"I think we get it. No military without red tape to drown in," Jamila huffed.

Jack sweat-dropped. "Well Carter, if you don't want, I won't force you. See you next Monday."

"Yes sir. Have fun." She rushed out of the room.

"I will." Staring after her as she left, he realized then he was looking kind of low on his 2IC's backside, and shook his head as if to drive out some dangerous, forbidden thoughts. "Well, looks like we will have a private afternoon tea after all… anything I should bring?"

"Just a couple of sandwiches. I still have a whole double chocolate strawberry cheesecake at hand if you don't mind," she grinned.

"Certainly not," he replied chuckling. "Okay, meet me topside at 1600 hrs. And bring your stuff. As General Hammond said, you shouldn't stay on base."

"Won't that look bad?" she frowned.

"I put up with Daniel until he had an apartment, and he took more than three months after returning from Abydos."

"No, not like that… I am a woman after all…"

Jack shook his head again. "I am an Irish-Catholic Military Brat. And by now it is common knowledge on base that you are married; besides, I'm sure you won't need as long as Danny-boy."

"_Get your act together Jamila, he knows already more than the others…"_ Now she was the one shaking away stray thoughts. "Well then, see you soon. I'll do your registration tomorrow." A zap and she was gone.

"What?"

SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1 SG-1

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Topside  
Subterranean Parking Lot of CMC  
July 02, 1998  
1600 Zulu

Just as Jack left the elevator, a very different dressed Jamila appeared in a flash, causing _him_ to look twice. "Err… wow."

"Huh?" Jamila hung her black coat over her right arm, shouldered a standard issue seabag and picked up a package from the floor.

He still could see in the way she moved and stood that she was military (300 percent, if he had to judge from her No 1 dress blues she had entered the Briefing room in two days ago), but she was definitely capable of "letting her hair down". Her civilian outfit consisted of a half-long cord skirt and black, knee-high boots without high heels which made her look even taller than she already was, and a midnight blue skin-shirt with a boat neckline and 7/8 sleeves, discreetly patterned with embroidered flowers on the lower left. Her long hair hung in a simple low ponytail, ending just above the small of her back. In her right hand she held a lacquered box. "Nice outfit. You really know how to scrub up in civilian clothing… and you do nothing by halves, don't you…"

"Why thank you. And yes, nothing less but perfect."

"I'm sure your husband would appreciate it."

"Me too. Shall we go?" she grinned.

Eyeing the package, he countered, "Is that the cake?"

"Bingo. I hope you have a car."

"Of course, why?"

Her face was expressionless, but her eyes betrayed her discomfort. "I do not even have a driver's license which is valid over here…"

"Oh. And what are your plans on that?"

"I think that is something to be saved for the opening of tea."

"All right then. This way please." After signing out, he led her to his truck.

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Jack's House  
Living Room  
July 02, 1998  
1650 Zulu

After settling Jamila into one of his spare rooms (specifically the one with an own bathroom), Jack was busy with making a few sandwiches, albeit not as many different ones as his house guest did for her first trip through the gate. His selection 'merely' consisted of tuna and cheese, the only things in his fridge which were not dead yet. On the stove the kettle sizzled. Afterwards, he set the table in the living room with a few choice plates… and dared to take a glimpse at the cake. His hopes were matched up. As she had promised, it was the very same kind of cake as seven ½ years ago: Double Chocolate strawberry cheesecake, with a big 'Sorry' made of chocolate scribbled over its surface. "Huh?"

"I see that you couldn't resist." Jamila entered the kitchen.

"Jamila." He wanted to close the lid on the box, but instead the cake flew out, settling itself on the plate he had prepared. "Wow."

"Yes!" Noticing his puzzled expression, she explained. "I so wanted to do that so many times… With the exception of my own home, I never was allowed to do that somewhere else before."

"Ah. What is the 'sorry' for?" he pointed to the cake.

Nonchalantly, she picked it up, the lacquered box (and Jack) following her into the living room. "It's just the way I was forced on all of you, I thought…"

"To play nice huh."

"Yeah." Putting down the cake, the lady sat down, grabbed the box out of the air and revealed its contents: another Japanese teapot, this time made of porcelain with a cyan glaze with fine cracks, and a couple of matching tea cups. The iron handle of the pot arched over its lid nicely.

"What the… another teapot?" he asked, rather stunned.

She grinned sheepishly. "One of my very few vices, collecting Japanese tea sets. We are having cake, so that one is more appropriate, a porcelain celadon-glaze tea set."

"Okay… that sounds like someone who has a bit too much money." Jack had retrieved the whistling kettle and handed it over.

In a well-studied manner, she began preparing tea. "Let's not talk about that, I lost count somewhere over one milliard pound sterling… ah… eh…" In an attempt to clear her head, she smacked herself, then changed topic, embarrassed. "Anyway, tea will be ready in two minutes. And you asked me earlier about me and my driver's license."

A bit stunned about her mentioned fortunes, he nodded. "Yes. What are you going to do about that?" They sat down. "I mean, the base is not exactly close to Colorado Springs…"

"But to your house. Why that?"

"Air is cleaner here, good for star gazing. Less people to bug me. Before I rejoined the Air Force, this was supposed to be my retirement home ya know. But the funny thing is that half my neighbourhood is military. Just like the area around Academy." He shrugged. "It has its perks."

"Well, that all suits me just fine. The driver's license problem is tied to my housing problem."

"Why?"

"I am a bicycle freak. For a house over here, I have a rather short list of perks. Tea?" She removed the used tea leaves and sent the sieve to the sink.

"Sure. Bicycle? Interesting. Why that?" He picked up a knife and sliced the cake.

"Saves me my morning run if I go by bike to work. I did that when I was still working at Old Admiralty. Milk, sugar?"

Remembering the crazy waste of fine tea she did this morning, he asked, "What kind of tea is that?"

Snorting, she shook her head. "Don't worry, that's an English blend. London Westminster actually, a typical afternoon tea time tea blend. Fine enough to drink black, but leisure enough to put in milk and sugar." To drive the bullet home, she poured herself a cup and put in her own preferences, two sugar and milk.

"All right… same as you please. So, what's on the list? Thank you," he said as she handed him the tea. In answer, he place a slice of the cake on her plate.

"Thanks. I search a house with a flat roof for my telescope, not too far from base by bicycle, big enough for a grand piano and a garden, preferably surrounded by trees like yours," she listed one by one.

"Hmm…" Jack checked the list mentally and froze. "Wait a second… there is actually a house I know which suits all criteria!"

"What the… hell?"

A bit calmer, he added, "And you do not even need a realtor. It stands across the street from here, an old Victorian house…"

This pricked up her ears. "Victorian? Tell me more."

Going back to his usual indifference, Jack started to retell the story of the house. "It was built in the 1890s. Up until a few weeks ago, an old lady lived there. She died in hospital from a stroke. Her children don't want it and since then they have been trying to sell it." He dug into his cake.

Finishing her own slice in record time, she smirked. "Well, you certainly spiked my interest. More tea?"

"In that case we can take a look at it tomorrow if you like. Yes please." Just as Jamila picked up his cup to pour some more tea, someone knocked at the front door. "I'll get that. Two sugar and some milk please," he requested as he went to the door. The knocking repeated. "All right, don't make the elderly run…" he grumbled. Flinging the front door wide open, he scoffed, "What?!" only to see his beautiful 2IC standing on his doorstep.

"Oh, hi sir… I didn't want to disturb you…" Sam was furiously fighting a blush creeping up her neck at the sight of Jack O'Neill in civvies. "I just wondered if that invitation for tea was still open…" she managed to put together, for her original reason was all but fair to her new team-mate who basically gave up everything what could make someone happy just to be here…

"I guess Jamila won't mind. We were just discussing some possibility where she could live over here… Come on in," he finished with an inviting gesture.

Following him into the living room, Sam sat down on the couch. "Uh… hi…"

"Looks like we have some more company. Good afternoon Carter. Mind some tea?" Jamila asked, picking up the pot and taking a cup out of the box.

"Hello ma'am." Not knowing what else she should say, she settled for an "Err… Yes please. Black." After being served – by two senior officers, no less – Sam sat there like a lost pet, feeling terribly awkward.

"Sooo… what brings you here, Carter?" the other woman asked, idly stirring her tea.

"Err…"

"Don't try to fool me, an empath and telepath. You're radiating awkwardness and curiosity off in an intensity that they break past my mental shielding, and _these_," she paused for emphasis, "are extremely good. My mind is a black box. Something is bothering you, and it is something trivial about me. Fess up."

Sam made a face as if she was caught red-handed. "It's just, I saw you as you left the locker room, dressed to kill…"

"And made assumptions?" The lady's sentence was a statement in the disguise of a question. Holding up her right hand with her wedding and seal ring, she added flatly, "As if I would betray my husband, my four children and my family's honours. _Jack_ was just kind enough to grant an old friend of his _father's_ some hospitality until she can purchase something of her own. I just happen to like to dress up a bit."

Sam was speechless.

"Oh come on Carter, doing another goldfish-routine will not change a thing. Drink your tea," Jamila advised, bringing the empty pot to the kitchen. "Bernard-Paul Heroux said once there is no trouble so great or grave that cannot be much diminished by a nice cup of tea."

Sam just poked her slice of cake and stared into the turquoise tea cup.

She sat down again. "Drink. It tastes awful when it's cold."

"Oh." Hastily, she stuffed her mouth with the cake, and her eyes widened in surprise.

The sniper smirked at seeing her reaction. "Good?"

This one Jack answered. "Definitely good cake."

Finally, Sam could get herself to down her tea and blurted out, "She knows your father, sir?"

"Apparently. Found out this morning." Jack shrugged. "At least some of his letters would make more sense now."

"That brings me to something… do you still answer his letters?" Jamila asked leisurely.

"Sure thing. I get one once a month in the first week, and I answer it at the end of month. Should come any day now. Let me guess, he sends yours on the 15th of every month." Jack snatched another slice of cake. "Where do you get that cake from? It's really good."

"Bull's-eye Flyboy. And that cake is from a small bakery in Central London, City of Westminster. They are my family's suppliers for cake and pastries for nearly 150 years." She took a sip of her tea.

"Ah." Sam judged their interactions carefully, replaying the whole scene. Despite her obvious 100 percent female choice at civilian clothing, the main thing the Colonel was interested in was another slice of cake and learning more about his house guest, showing the same kind of hospitality he had displayed towards Daniel or some of the officers on base. The only things distinguishing her from them were the facts the Captain was female and apparently a friend of the Colonel's father, and a first-name basis established as a result. Nothing inappropriate was going on as far as she could tell. She got up. "Well then… I better leave you to the Colonel's capable help and hope you get acclimatized and soon find a place to live ma'am. I'm sorry if I–"

"Nonsense Carter, you're always welcome as my guest," Jack cut in and smiled at her. "I'll walk you out."

"Thank you sir." Standing in his open door, she hesitated and turned around. "Ma'am?"

"What is it, Carter?" Jamila had followed them.

"I'm sorry for making assumptions, ma'am."

"It is okay. Just listen to the grapevine a bit better the next time."

"Yes ma'am. I'll see you two on Monday."

"See ya Carter."

Five minutes later, Jack and Jamila sat in the living room, munching on the sandwiches with a fresh pot of tea. "So, how _exactly_ did you meet my dad?"

"He was a Colonel on his last mission on that rank, and I was a lousy, green, snivelling lieutenant on her first Red mission, still yearning for heard and home as they say. Our plane broke and we had to make an emergency landing in Geilenkirchen." She poured them some tea. "We needed to get a new transport and he flew us in. Next thing I remember is getting a letter from Geilenkirchen, signed Jonathan O'Neill sr., BG (note 4), USAF, asking me to be pen-friends. From then on, we have the monthly letter routine… he even came to my wedding!" she grinned at the memory.

"What the… wait. He wrote that!" Jack hurriedly got to his feet, left the room and came back with a few folders. Flipping through one of the oldest folders, he pulled out the corresponding letter. All of them were handwritten. "Here. He wrote that he's sorry the letter is so late, but it was because he was been on the wedding of a good friend in London…"

"What was the date?"

"December 7, 1980. The next letter is the Christmas card."

"That would be alright… I married on November 20, 1980, at Westminster Abbey." She grinned. "St Paul's was booked already by someone else."

Jack snorted. "Looks like these letters have some other perks than just clearing my head."

Jamila however frowned a bit. "That reminds me… When did you start answering them again? Your father mentioned once that you haven't been writing for a while."

"Oh… eh…" Jack shifted uncomfortably in his armchair. "Do I have to answer that?"

"Not now." She shook her head. "Just tell me when it is convenient."

"Thank you," he answered, relieved and truly grateful. "I don't want to sound closed up, but…"

"There are things we love to forgive, or to forget, for that matter." Jamila's face was grim, stern. "But even if we forget them in broad daylight, they will haunt us as nightmares. I know the feeling all too well as well."

"Yeah." Jack closed his eyes, and reopened them again, facing her. "Anyway, since it's already a bit late, what would you like for dinner? Pizza or Chinese?"

"As long as there is no potatoes, cabbage, or anything remotely reminding of mess hall food in it, I'm in…" she counted down her fingers. "Pizza it is. But no pepperoni for me."

"What a shame. What then?" he asked, going into the kitchen and placing the dishes and tea pot in the sink. Then he picked up a take-out menu and the phone.

"Be prepared, I am actually crazy. Pizza Caprese: Shrimps, calamari rings, onion, basil and extra garlic and mozzarella," she answered with a smirk.

"Okay…" Calling his favourite pizza place, he rattled down the orders. "They'll be here in circa half an hour. Wanna have a beer?" he called.

"No thanks. I really don't like beer." She sighed again. "Bad memory. I prefer a good wine, or even a cocktail."

"Weird…" He sat down again, a beer in hand.

"Guinness." She snorted. "You really are an Irishman, Jack."

"Says the Briton in my armchair."

teaandbiscuitsteaandbiscuitsteaandbiscuitsteaandbiscuitsteaandbiscuitsteaandbiscuitsteaandbiscuitsteaandbiscuitsteaandbiscuits

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Jack's House  
Living Room/Kitchen/Dining Room  
July 02, 1998  
2200 Zulu

"Care to tell me why you made us watching 'The Simpsons'?" Jamila yawned.

"There was no Hockey game on TV," Jack countered laconically. They had finished the pizzas and were tidying up now.

"Hockey. As in Ice Hockey?"

"Yes. Do you not like it?"

"On the contrary. But I do not understand what would be interesting in watching US Ice Hockey when you always loose to Canada in the World Championship. Or to Germany, for that matter." She stirred her tea.

"It's still hockey. What kind of sports do you actually like, for the matter?"

"Depends on if you want to know which ones I watch and which ones I do."

"Both." He lifted an eyebrow.

"I indulge in watching the occasional tennis game, watching the Ice Hockey and the Football/Soccer World and European Championship and sometimes some of the Golf world series." She seemed to be deep in thought. "For training, I swim, dive, run and climb; I practise martial arts, Baguazhang (note 5) to be precise, which I incorporate into my hand-to-hand skills and I throw darts and knives (note 6). More for the fun of it, I do sabre-fencing and I go off-road biking. And I know how to sail (note 7) a yacht and to ride a horse."

"Wow," Jack gasped. "That's a lot."

"What about you?"

"The usual training for a military officer. Running, swimming, weights, hand-to-hand. And I play hockey when I find the time." He shrugged. "I can't fence, but I know how to fish."

"Me too. I actually like fishing a lot, especially barracuda."

"Barracuda? That's unusual."

She grinned. "I have a tropical cabana on Battowia, one of the islands of St Vincent and the Grenadines. I used to go there for hunting barracuda once in a while. What is your fish of choice?"

"Bass. And pike sometimes." He paused. "As for the place I fish at, I have a small cabin in Minnesota which my uncle gave me."

"Nice." She yawned. "If you excuse me now… I'm really tired."

"All right then. Good night Jamila."

"Good night Jack." She glided out of the room.

"_No wonder my father writes you… you really are a rare person. I guess I should put in an extra letter to dad this time."_ Yawning, he added in his thoughts, _"But not today."_

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Jack's House  
Living Room/Kitchen/Dining Room  
July 03, 1998  
0730 Zulu

Upon noticing that his elusive houseguest was not in the house, finding a note mentioning a morning run instead, Jack started his own morning routine: Run, shower, shave. As he emerged from his bathroom however, a full breakfast greeted him with its tempting smell. "Good morning Jack. Pancakes are ready in a few minutes."

"Morning. When the hell did you get up?"

"Well, considering it is my first day off in two-and-a-half years, at 0600." She flipped the pancake in the pan. "Wow… if it wasn't for my psych powers, this one would have ended on the ceiling."

"What?! You get up at 0600 on your _day off_? At what godforsaken time do you usually get up Jamila?" he exclaimed.

"0430. I like to take my time in the morning. Tea?"

"WHAT?"

She chuckled in response. "Remember, the last 2 ½ years I spent as the CO of a Duke-class frigate. The only way to do the training necessary was to get up earlier than the alpha watch of the bridge crew. Unfortunately, these maniacs get up at 0500. Including my 2IC."

"Oh my god…"

"So, tea?" Suddenly, the pancake found its place on a pile in a picture-perfect somersault.

"Yes please." Jack picked up the food, helping her setting the table. "I take it that stunt was also helped with cosmic voodoo. Where is all the food from?"

"Sure thing. I don't like taking risks with food, that would be a waste… and about the food, I went to the store. I want to repay the hospitality." Making an inviting gesture, she said, "Enjoy."

"Thanks."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
The House opposite to Jack's House  
Front Yard  
July 03, 1998  
1300 Zulu

After a couple of phone calls, Jamila and Jack stood in front of the house mentioned last night, together with the son of the last house owner, a lawyer from Denver. "I'm not sure if it will meet your standards, ma'am, but I remember it to be a great house."

"We will see Mr Lauren. My wish list towards a house is surprisingly short," Jamila replied.

Leading them into the ante room, he asked, "And what would that be?"

"As I told my colleague here, flat roof for my telescope, not too far from the Cheyenne Mountain Complex by bicycle, big enough for a grand piano and a garden, preferably surrounded by trees so that not so many people bug me or spy at my antics. It should be still good enough that it is reasonable to put in the newest standards in energy efficiency and security," she listed slowly, entering the living room.

"Wow. Nice setting. Definitely big enough for the piano." Jack was positively surprised as the tour went on.

His companion however had noticed something about the cabinets in the living room. "Some of the furniture look far older than the rest in here… as old as the house it seems, Jack," she whispered.

"Are you sure?" he answered in the same volume.

"Positive. I grew up in such surroundings, remember?"

"Right. You want to keep them?"

"Absolutely. It would be a shame and a waste to throw them away. And that's what he's planning, according to his surface thoughts," she shook her head.

"Ask him if he would sell the house with the furniture."

"Okay."

After finishing the tour, they settled down at the ancient dining table. "So, Mrs…"

"Captain." Jamila's voice was stern.

"Right, Captain Bartholomew, what do you think? Would you take it?"

"Under one condition."

"Huh? Which one?" The younger man was positively puzzled.

"Sell the house with the furniture to me."

"What, that's all?"

"I like it, at least in the grander scheme," she said, deadpan. "How much?"

"In that case, you can have it. $ 150.000."

Now Jamila smirked. "125.000."

"Are you kidding? 130.000 at least."

"No. 125.000. And I pay at once and in cash."

"What?!" That rose Lauren's suspicion. "Where do you get so much money from, if one may ask?"

"Why does everyone over here think that my money is somehow dirty the moment I mention I can pay in cash and at once?" she complained. "I inherited it for crying out loud. My family is British nobility."

"Oh… well, sorry ma'am. I am a lawyer. You would pay cash?" he asked.

"Cash, cheque, transfer, what you like. Just name it."

"Err… give me a check," the lawyer said a bit irritated.

"Very good. Does that mean we have a deal?"

"I think so. $ 125.000, right?"

"Yes. How long do you need for a treaty and the necessary papers sir?" she asked smiling.

"Well, I'll need about an hour. Where can I find you?"

"Just across the street, at my place," Jack cut in.

"Alright then… I'll see you soon." Leading them out of the house, he took the 'for sale' sign away, leaving a "Sold" there.

After parting ways, they returned to Jack's. "That screams for a good tea."

"Ya think?" The door fell closed.

* * *

Notes

1 For those not from the Commonwealth or not familiar with the Western art of drinking tea, classic (British) Breakfast tea is usually offered with milk/cream and sugar.

2 Summa cum laude: Latin: With highest praise. Highest academic mark for Dissertations/Doctorates. Lower ones are Magna cum laude (With great praise) and cum laude (With praise). The rest is silence.

3 Search and Rescue

4 BG: Brigadier General

5 Baguazhang. Means Circle Walking. One of the three inner martial arts of ancient China.

6 Jamila's wide array of athletic activities result a great deal of the fact she is a frogwoman/Swimmer Canoeist _and_ a sniper, which means she is trained as single combatant.

7 Naval officers who went to Captain's school (with the exception of pilots) must know how to sail and navigate across the sea.

* * *

**AN: Phew! Done! I hope you now get it, I don't want Jack and Jamila as a shipping, but as very good friends.**

**Coming up Next: In the line of Duty.** SG-1 must face an invisible threat towards Sam.

**Visit my user page for my poll for the next episode, "In The Line Of Duty". You can decide what will happen to Jolinar!**  
Stay tuned!


	5. Episode 2: In the Line of Duty AT

**Disclaimer: ****I wish I was MGM, Roland Emmerich, Sony E, and all these other cool guys so the stupid SJ DJ innuendos would stop and Stargate would throw us a curve ball for shipper's sake. Since I'm not all these people, I have to write this weird Alternate Timeline (not AU!) story - I own Jamila and her merry bunch of ****weirdoes.**

**Summary: First AT Occurrence: Jolinar survives. Enter: telepathy and empathy, as well as Healing: Special Skill: General Extraction. Also AT: Another surprise extraction.  
Story starts after Jolinar is discovered and put into the brig, as well as the Ashrak awakening. Jamila returns from reporting to the Sea Lord.**

* * *

**Year 2, Episode 2: In the Line of Duty**

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 23  
Jack's Office  
July 05, 1998  
1345 Zulu

Jamila noticed the distress at the SGC the moment she signed in. Hurriedly, she went down to the locker room, dressed into blue BDU's and rushed to find Jack. She found him in the place she would expect him the least – his office. "What's going on here? Everyone is agitated."

"Good afternoon to you too Jamila… how was your trip to London?" Jack answered, sounding tired.

"Sorry Jack. Good afternoon. It was short but productive. Had not much time to take in the feeling of home with all this reporting I had to do, but it was worth it. I was there only half a day, and my husband was out of town… So back to my original source of confusion, what the hell is going on here? Everyone is agitated." She eyed him worriedly. "And you look like you didn't get much sleep."

"Have a seat, this may take a while…" Hurriedly, he filled her in on yesterday's extra mission – SG-9 was down due to injuries – to the Nassyans gone south, and Sam being possessed by a Goa'uld. "And that… thing says all the time we should let him go, and we don't know what's truly going on," he stated bitterly. "It doesn't want to tell us either. And I'm out of ideas how to get it out of him."

"Nice," she replied sarcastically. "I take it that in the last 36 hours you hadn't had a single cup of tea." Earlier, one of her iron tea pots (a small green with cranes) and everything needed for tea had flown through the door and she had made tea. "Did it already tell its name?" she asked.

"He calls himself Jolinar of Malkshur and claims to be of a rebel group named the Tok'ra. As if any Goa'uld would seek power for good."

"Milk, sugar?"

Knowing her tastes in terms of quality, he stated carefully, "Depends on the blend."

"Well, in that case I suggest sugar and lime. It's Earl Grey." She poured two cups and halved a lime. "Well, _you_ cannot get the truth out of him, but it does not mean _I_ cannot."

"Okay. Just a little. And one sugar. Thanks." Sipping a bit of his tea, he added, "What do you mean by this?"

"Jack, I am an empath and telepath, I can read thoughts and emotions as if they were an open book. The problem with these abilities is not being aware of other people's thoughts and emotions, but to block them out so they don't drive you mad." She sipped her tea and made a grimace. "On the other hand I am able to override most minds and control them. Or at least get intel out of it." She frowned. "But I don't like that part of it; it's a breach of privacy on both sides."

"Still it sounds like a great idea. We better talk to Hammond." Jack picked up the phone. "SG-1 to the Briefing room ASAP."

"Feeling better now?" she grinned as she sent the cups and pot away.

"Yes. Thanks for the tea."

"You're welcome."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 27  
SGC Briefing Room  
July 05, 1998  
1410 Zulu

Daniel and Teal'c were slumping into the room as Jack, Jamila and the General left the latter's office. "Good afternoon everyone," the sniper smiled.

"Good afternoon Milady."

"Captain Bartholomew."

"Sit down everyone," Hammond ordered. "Captain Bartholomew just returned from her initial debriefing with the Naval Staff in London and was thus thrown into our difficult situation. As I understand it, the Colonel filled her in and she offered a solution for it."

"Yes sir. You see, I doubt that this Tok'ra, Goa'uld or whatever would tell us more of the truth willingly… but you cannot stop thinking, and neither can Jolinar. That's why one should truly fear an Antarian. I am a telepath; and a powerful one as well."

"How can you be so sure of your abilities Captain?"

"One of the tests I had to endure is to use the most powerful, but also most perverted and shameful skill of combined telepathy and empathy on the best trained and shielded minds of the Commonwealth. The invasion of mind." She gripped onto the table until her knuckles turned white, clenching her jaw. "With this skill, I can invade, override, control and ultimately destroy _any_ person's mind whose subconscious knowledge and willpower are even a drip lesser than mine. And no normal mortal being _ever_ beat me in terms of the first. I am not very proud to say that I could invade all these people… if I had wanted it, I could have turned their souls to shreds… leaving an empty shell." Pause. "It is the mental equivalent of a rape-murder in the last case and the ultimate breach of privacy." Jamila lowered her head and let go of the wooden table, leaving small dents as grip marks.

"Oh my god…" Daniel whispered.

Jack however noticed her distress. "Jamila?"

"I hate it. It's simply shameful." She shook her head, trying to quieten the corresponding memories and faced the base CO. "General, I rather read a person's mind than do this one again, but for Carter's sake I will even do that if necessary. Even if one of us could go mad."

Hammond thought about it. She cared obviously a lot about honour and privacy. "Do it. But be careful, we want not to loose more people to this. Dismissed."

"Sir!"

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 16  
Holding Room Delta  
July 05, 1998  
1420 Zulu

Jolinar/Sam froze dead in her pacing the moment someone approached the door. This feeling… Naquadah… the Ashrak which had followed her to the first world came here! Bracing herself for an attack, she was surprised to see one of her host's team-mates, a woman with blue hair, grim jaw-line and determination radiating from every pore. "It couldn't be… A guardian?" The man from earlier, Colonel O'Neill, followed her and closed the door.

"Looks like you know what I am." Jamila came to a halt just half a foot from the bars of Jolinar's cell.

"Yes. You are an Antarian, the first race to live in this galaxy. Most humans call your kind guardians, and you are great enemies of the system lords, on par with the Asgard." Jolinar's distortion of Sam's voice still gave Jack the chill.

Jamila however snorted. "Then you should be aware of what I can do to you."

"You really have no idea why this is happening," Jolinar/Sam repeated.

"Shut up, stupid Goa'uld."

"I am no Goa'uld!" they yelled, wounded pride distorting her voice even more.

"Looks like we are getting somewhere. What are you then, Jolinar of Malkshur?"

Silence.

"Give up and just tell me." Despite her smirk, Jamila's tone was even. "Lying to me is futile, as is hiding the truth. However, I would prefer not to use force."

"You won't get anything out of me."

"Nice emotional turmoil. You and your current host share a few interesting traits, and that is the lack of mental barriers and common sense," Jamila analysed the situation and lowered even more mental shields on her own side. "So, again… What are you, if not a Goa'uld? What is a Tok'ra?"

"A rebel group within our race's society, whose only goal is the end of the System Lords, a revolution. I am one of them."

"Tok-ra, tok-ra… ah, of course, 'Against Ra', 'Enemy of Ra'," she murmured. "Makes sense… and your aura and attitude would suit that statement."

"Jamila?" Jack asked.

"Jack, her whole attitude is based upon despair, defiance and the wish to change things. Not your typical Goa'uld mind-set; or what do you think?" she listed.

"No."

"Very well then. And by the way, what the hell is an Ashrak and why are you so afraid of it?" Silence. "But Jolinar, my dear, you cannot hide your thoughts… the moment I asked, you answered in your mind, thank you."

"_NO_!" Open horror made Jolinar/Sam jump back from the bars.

Jack turned to his companion, question on his face. "How's that?"

"You can't stop thinking usually. Best example: I say: 'Don't think of strawberries' and I bet you'll think of strawberries." Her grin faded. "Ashrak. Goa'uld for hunter, bounty-hunter. An assassin of the highest rank who carries out the orders of the system lords. System lords is the 'governing body' of the Goa'uld, although even the UN has more real admin power than them. According to her, she pissed one of them off pretty badly."

"We heard that one already from Teal'c. He's a traitor to the System lords who tried to overthrow one of them and had to run away as he failed." He shook his head. "Apparently, he got one of these assassins on her tail, but we don't know what he or she looks like."

"How did you get that intel out of her?"

"A few hours ago, one of the Nassyans we brought back was very badly burned, but somehow, he just got up out of his hospital bed and disappeared. With her, we figured that he must be that Ashrak."

"Ah." Turning back to her task, Jamila's irises flashed. "And you didn't think that this information would have been important to them, Jolinar?"

"_Enough_." Jolinar wanted to sit down on the lower bunk in the cell as the Guardian froze her in every movement. "Let me go!" she demanded.

"I make the rules here, and you are going to tell me what the hell is going on around you. What are you, a wanted Tok'ra, traitor to the system lords doing in the body of my team-mate?" she hissed. No answer. "Fine. I hate that part, but if you insist on a nightmare… Jack, open the cell."

"Why?"

"I need physical contact." She sighed. "This must be the most horrifying ability of being Antarian… to drown a soul in a tidal wave of your thoughts."

"Ouch." Jack let her into the cell. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

"Stop it!"

"Only if you tell me and if you let my friend go."

"I can't."

"Then face the consequences." With that, she pressed Sam against the wall, holding her by the jaw with the right hand. Then, she tipped her with the index finger of her left onto the forehead. "I'm sorry Sam…"

"_Ah_!" A flash of light, and the world went dark for Jolinar of Malkshur.

TelephathyEmpathy TelephathyEmpathy TelephathyEmpathy TelephathyEmpathy TelephathyEmpathy TelephathyEmpathy

Spiritual Realm  
Area: A Crossroad of Three:  
Samantha Carter's/Jolinar's/???-Jamila's Room of mind  
July 05, 1998  
1430 Zulu

Jamila found herself in a corridor with two doors opposite to each other, both open. Behind her, her own »mind door« was standing wide open, leading to an endless no-gravitation library, only lightened by starlight. The other two doors – only one of them was actually one, the other was a curtain – led to two very different rooms. The one on the left was filled with the reminders of Sam's life – science, military bits, photographs (her family, SG-1 and… surprise! Jack alone in dress blues!), romantic things like flowers and candles… and among it, the k. o. spirit of »Samantha«, her identity, on a couch. "Innocent as always. Your nightmares are a laugh for some people. Nothing dark in here. No true secrets. Only a lot of fears and insecurities. The other one however…" Jamila forced the curtain away. A room made of some crystal like the insides of a geode with very _few_ personal belongings greeted her. A table-like bed made of the same crystal material stood in the middle, a woman lying on it, unconscious. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Jolinar, I don't know who you are. Looks like at least we know now the gender of your personality… female, what a surprise. It seems like this is the form of your last real host." With a wave of her right, the blonde spirit was chained to the table with lightning. "Your room hides a lot of mysteries, Jolinar… but you have even less barriers than Sam it seems… this is way too easy. Abandon hope all ye who enter here (note 1)…"

"Urgh…" Sam was the first one of the two to awaken.

"Hey Sam. Or is it still Carter?" Jamila turned to the astrophysicist.

"Ma'am? Where are we?" she asked, confused.

"Well, it looks awfully like the inside of your head to me. And that of that Tok'ra from the looks of the room on the other side." She turned towards the second figure lying on the stone table. "Looks like she is not used to mental assault either. So Carter, since you are free to explore the conscious and unblocked parts of my identity, why don't you go and get an image of me while I take care of your problem?"

"Err, ma'am…"

"Call me Jamila. At least in here, and off duty, otherwise it feels really weird. And it was an invitation to get to know me really well. And you'll be protected from the mental assault."

"Well then, I'm Sam." Heading towards the »Door« the Antarian (in full Antarian mode, blue hair and long ears) came from, she added in passing, "Thanks."

"Take a thought thread, otherwise you get lost and I will have to kick you out."

"Okay."

"Let's see what you are made of, Jolinar…" Jamila, riding her own wave of thoughts, searched through Jolinar's room – and thus her memories. "Fear. You have a price on your head for treason, and now, more than two centuries after, you have become one of the greatest problems for the Goa'uld. And your last master is still fuming over your actions, ha-ha… oh, what do we have here? A man, huh… you have an awful lot of memories with him. Ah, he's your mate." The crystal room changed into the image of an Antarian library, holo-screens, vines and all as she scrolled through her memories. "Malkshur, the place you proved yourself as Tok'ra. Joining their ranks after your defeat. Homesick you are too… ah! A barrier finally. You don't share your secrets easily, but… thanks for the info."

"_NO_!" Behind her, the image of Jolinar had come to life and struggled against the chains.

Jamila shot her a glance and suddenly, she was standing in knee-deep water, still chained, while the invader was hovering above it. "Careful child, my thoughts are a bit deep. If you annoy me too much, you're going to drown in them. What of your desperate quest then?"

"Why you… why are you doing this? Even I can feel that you hate this power as much as I don't like forcing a host," the Tok'ra pleaded.

"It's not like you gave me many choices. You forced my hand." Jamila's thoughts were free from her usual bitterness or wrath, devoid of emotion. "Looks like that's it. At least I know now what to do. _Sam_!" she called, pulling out the rearrangement of mental space and the flood of extra thoughts. Then she landed, stepping backwards into the corridor.

Sam emerged from Jamila's thoughts, total amazement on her face. "You called, Jamila?"

"It is time for me to leave. Just hang on for a little longer, okay?" she requested.

"I'll try ma'am. Really, I'll try," Sam sighed. "Just hurry."

"Alright." Walking backwards to her »room«, Jamila yelled, "Release!"

Real World Real World Real World Real World Real World Real World Real World Real World Real World

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 16  
Holding Room Delta  
July 05, 1998  
1431 Zulu

Suddenly, the three found themselves back in the real world. Dissolving herself into energy but not teleporting, Jamila slowly slipped through the bars of the cell, leaving Sam/Jolinar in a boneless heap sliding to the floor, completely out of breath. "You are a monster, Guardian."

"Better a monster than an idiot on the run who improvises." Jamila materialized again and stood beside Jack, slightly panting.

"Nice trick. Why did I have to open the cell in the first place?"

"Takes a lot out of one if you are a master with partial amnesia, making you de facto an amateur." She sighed.

"Ah. What now?" Jack asked, turning away from the cell.

»We'll offer her a better deal than hers«.

"What would be a better deal than this?"

»Saving her life, killing the Ashrak and getting her back to the Tok'ra. That's it in a nutshell«. She sighed. "She had been right as she had said that she is more worth alive. She could lead us to the ally of the year in this struggle."

"Ah… Details?"

"We set a trap for the Ashrak, but I'll need something from my lab for that."

"What is it?"

"An Antarian intention alert. Persons with bad intentions in its proximity and it will ring the bell on my wrist computer. Experimental though."

"I don't know Jamila…" Jack shook his head.

"Let me just try this." Jamila returned to the cell. "All right then, Jolinar, I'll make you an offer you cannot refuse…"

"Stop the clichés skipper, will you?"

"Nope. I love quotes."

Sigh!

"What is that offer?" Jolinar got up.

"Your life. And the head of the Ashrak. Against that of Sam." Jack shuddered internally. Jamila's current overwhelming presence was clearly not the human/mortal part of her. It reminded him of a starry night, the presence of the sky… or a full-blown tempest.

Apparently, even a Tok'ra couldn't get away from its ban. "What is your plan?"

"Look." Meanwhile, Jamila's voice had gotten that non-earthly sound/quality she had used on the day she walked into the briefing room and lost her temper at a "false-god" remark of Daniel. She clapped her hands twice, and in a flash, a small device appeared. "This is an aura-detector alert. Once activated, it will warn the nearest Antarian wrist device of anyone coming into a room with »bad intentions« – which would be mine." She pulled up her sleeve to show the flat device on her right wrist in place of a watch.

"And what do you plan on that?"

"If that Ashrak comes here, his intention will be »murder«, one hell of a bad intention. And his target is clear: You. The moment he turns up here, he signed his own death sentence." Leaning in, she added in a hiss, "And don't tell me you don't know the chances a Goa'uld has in a fight one-on-one with my kind."

Jolinar shook her head. "Zero." Staring at her in total confusion, she asked, "Why? Why do you help me?"

"I know what you are. By now, I know enough to know that your kind holds valuable information and could be a good ally for us. And I could _find my name_ with your help maybe." She stepped back. "And there is still Sam Carter. We want her back."

Now Jack stirred again. "Can we talk to Sam?"

"If you wish… be aware, the one you will be talking to will not be me." Jolinar lowered her head, and as she came up again, her facial expression was completely different: somewhere between scared, tired and shocked.

"Sir! Ma'am! God…" Sam sat down on the bunk. "Hey! I'm in control… this is so weird…"

"How are ya holding up, Carter?" the Colonel asked, worried.

"Considering what happened and what you plan to do, pretty good." She sighed.

"Good to hear."

"Sam. Take this and put it in one of your pant pockets." Jamila handed her the activated device through the bars. Her whole otherworldly aura had vanished, like the remnants of a dream.

The junior officer complied. "How do we get the assassin here?"

"I got an idea… we found a place for the Nassyans, and it is time to send them there anyway…" Jack thought out loud. "When we bring them here, that ass will most likely follow them here. Ta-Da!"

"Jack, you just sounded like your father, my father, my husband and my brothers at the same time." Jamila chuckled. "This is so simple that no-one but a genius will think of it… and it might just actually work. Sam, Jolinar… just hold on for a little longer, okay?"

"We'll try, Guardian." Jolinar answered.

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 23  
Stargazer Laboratory/Jamila's Office  
July 05, 1998  
ca 1500 Zulu

Getting the Nassyans back to the SGC would take about an hour, considering the paperwork, and so Jamila used the opportunity to register Jack – as full user. "Care to tell me why I get full rights and an own account for this place while Carter and the other geeks get only limited access accounts?" he wondered as they walked back to her office.

"Simple. You understand High Antarian."

"Oh… that reminds me, I am under orders to learn that." He scratched his head. "How do I do that?"

"Well, first you need to learn how to read and write it. That involves learning the two scripts I'm afraid… the handwritten script and the one for inscriptions, Sky script." She picked up the note-board she had used to register him, waved her hand across it and showed him a schematic. "The computers use Sky script. It is also used if you write with psychokinesis."

"How do you do that?"

"With an inkpot and a crystal pen. You control the flow of the ink. But this is of little concern for you… you just need to know how to read them." She picked up a book from the shelf and handed it to him. "This will help I think…"

Jack checked the book. It's title read »High Antarian. An introduction for True Listeners«. "Thanks… I think."

Before he could ask anything else, the phone rang. Jamila picked it up. "Portsmouth here. What? Yes, good. Yes, he's here, I'll tell him. Thank you." Clack.

"Who was that?"

"Chief of Security. He says the Nassyans are here."

Tucking the book under his arm, he finished for them, "Let's go."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 16  
Holding Room Delta  
July 05, 1998  
1600 Zulu

A man in the uniform of an SF silently slipped into the holding room. But he was no SF, as far as Jolinar could tell… and it was also not a guardian, for the feeling of Tritanium was amiss (note 2). She froze. Despite the assurances of the Tau'ri – or Assians (note 3) for the matter, as an Antarian was among them – the Ashrak had been able to slide into a truly highly fortified facility as her host pointed out. _'Hurry up guardian!'_ she thought, panicking.

The Ashrak continued by simply breaking the lock of the door of the cell, pulling the cell door open. "Kree-shac, Jolinar. By decree of the Goa'uld System Lords, you will die with dishonour, by the power of the Hara'kesh," he proclaimed.

But Jolinar faced him fearlessly, letting both her host's – Samantha's – trust into her team-mates and her pride as a Tok'ra override any reason. "Hear this. Even if you succeed in killing me, the days of the Goa'uld System Lords are numbered. Tell them that I died with hope. My death only feeds the fire that burns strong in the Tok'ra."

The Ashrak proceeded by lifting his hand – and was knocked off his feet with a sharp gust of air. "And don't think that your galactic domination tour will be tolerated by me," an otherworldly voice hissed.

"What is the meaning of this?" he yelled, hanging helplessly in midair.

In front of him, Jamila materialized slowly, with Jack grabbing onto her wrist. "Go."

Jack didn't hesitate. "Are you two alright?"

Still a bit shocked, Sam answered, "Feathers a bit ruffled, but otherwise fine sir."

"Good." He led her out of the cell.

"I demand to get an answer!" the Ashrak shouted.

"You are in no position to make demands of anyone, fool." Jamila unhurriedly got closer, her presence growing with every step until it was even greater than the moment she offered Jolinar a deal, her aura being faintly visible as blue-and-purple whirling pillar of light. "De-maii (note 4), Ashrak Edrekh. By the will of _the one who created everything_, you will die in shame at the hands of a Guardian by being removed from your host and being torn to pieces," she told him, a cruel smirk on her face. Her long ears had come out of hiding and her hair was shining blue, with malachite-green streaks.

"Guardian? No… impossible!" Now Edrekh was one to give in into panic.

»Too late«. Pulling him close enough to touch him, Jamila held up her right hand, which was suddenly enveloped into a mild green light, like sunrays in a green forest, and slowly _plunged_ the hand into her victim's neck, causing his chest, neck and head to dissolve partially into glowing meta-energy. Jamila's hair was again waving in air as if under water, and her irises were shining as a grabbing sound caught both Sam/Jolinar's and Jack's attention, and the assassin gurgled, unable to move. With her left, she took away his small hand device, the Hara'kesh, and threw it to Jack. After a few minutes, she pulled the hand out, letting Edrekh's host slump down in a heap of limbs. In her fist, a green-black serpentine creature struggled against the merciless grip of her fingers, screeching miserably and obviously in pain: Edrekh. Smashing the fragile creature onto the floor, she stomped brutally onto its tail and pulled a bastard sword out of thin air, the carbonite crystal blade glistening eerily in the artificial light of the holding room. In a single fluid motion, she rammed the tip of the adamant weapon into the head of the parasite with enough force that fine cracks appeared on the ground. "_God_… makes no mistakes." She let go of him, and the sword dissolved into meta-energy, which she absorbed. "But sometimes… I think there are things which are a close call."

Maybe it was the fact that her voice and presence was normal again, or that her hair was back to being metallic blue and hanging down in her usual cobalt streaks which tipped them off, but the moment Jamila stumbled backwards, Jack and Sam/Jolinar were there to catch her. "Whoa, easy Jamila." Jack steadied her carefully until she got her footing back. Turning to the SF's coming in, he barked, "Get a medical team down here, keep this guy under guard and call the general to the infirmary."

"Yes sir."

"Are you alright, ma'am?" Sam asked, worried.

"Just a little shaken kids, thank you… I have a frigging headache. Stupid me, why did I get so agitated? He triggered the »other me« and a not-so-nice amount of flashbacks," she grumbled.

"Maybe it is because he was a Goa'uld," Jolinar suggested. "You seem fairly reasonable around my kind. According to what I have heard, the others of your kind don't mind the presence of a Tok'ra, but the presence of a Goa'uld is revolting to you."

"Most likely," Jamila sighed. "At least I know a new trick for my healing abilities. Come; let's not make the General wait. I hope you will behave."

"I keep my promises. I am a Tok'ra," she answered sternly, following Jamila, the medical team and the SF's out of the holding room.

Jack took the rear. "So you say."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 28  
Infirmary  
July 05, 1998  
1630 Zulu

General George S. Hammond was not one to be surprised, not after more than a year as CO of the SGC. But the story of Jolinar and of that dead Ashrak (Jamila had actually to fend off its host's gratitude) was certainly stunning, especially the fact that the symbiote inside Sam was willing to leave her, and didn't control Sam if "unnecessary". The current argument between her and his alien No 3 in the command structure (the Briton was senior to Makepeace, but junior to Jack) was the when and how and what then.

"I do not see a choice. I'll just stay like this until it is safe to return to the Tok'ra," the operative argued.

"You are not in the position to make demands my dear. And believe me, there is always a choice and a way. So, fish tank or Antarian stasis jar?" the Swimmer canoeist offered grinning, the corresponding objects appearing on the gurney behind her. As she got no answer, she added sternly, "You know I could force you to do that. I said it before, I prefer it if you do it by yourself. And now keep your part of the deal please."

Jolinar sighed. "I know when I stand defeated. The stasis jar please."

"Now that's kinda weird…" the general stated. "Why would you prefer to be frozen?"

"The fish tank is simply insulting in its implications, given the amount of snake and eel jokes in the galaxy," Jolinar stated uncomfortably. "Especially by her race." She pointed at the taller woman.

"Just a question Jamila, does this thing actually work?" Jack wondered.

"Well, I was able to keep a paprika fresh in it for a year and a fish alive in it for six months before I got fed up with the test and had both for dinner," she stated laconically as she teleported the fish tank away and held the stasis jar at her outstretched arm in front of herself, as if it was one of her cast iron teapots. The object in question was a hexagonal jar, made of carbonite crystal plates, which were held together by blue metal. The lid, made partially of the same metal, as was the base, was slid open, and the symbols around its rim glowed. "So please…"

Sam/Jolinar didn't hesitate much. Bowing over the open left palm of the Antarian, Jolinar left Sam with a retching noise and landed in Jamila's hand. If Sam hadn't been sitting on a bed already, she would have fallen to the ground. Jamila closed her fist gently around the white, eel-like creature (lacking the menacing looks of a mature Goa'uld) and placed her into the jar. "Sweet dreams, Jolinar of Malkshur." She turned around, setting the jar on the other bed, and closed the lid, thus activating it.

At the same time, Janet had hurried over and started checking on Sam. "Pulse is normal." Checking the pupils, she added, "Pupils are fine. I think she's just a bit exhausted."

"And low on Serotonin it seems," Jamila added and turned to the base CO. "Anyway sir…"

"What is it Captain?" the balding man asked, a little bewildered.

"According to what Jolinar knows, we can send a kill signal with the device we took from the Ashrak, making the System Lords – these are the most powerful Goa'uld in existence – believe she's dead. As soon as things settle down, we can seek out the Tok'ra, and maybe form an alliance." She sighed. "That is, if we keep our side of the deal and keep her alive and don't experiment on her. She is too valuable for risking her support in this matter with betrayal."

After a long pause, Hammond nodded. "I agree. What kind of people would we be if we break promises just like that?"

Jack and Jamila grimaced. "Not better than our enemies," the man stated.

"Definitely not our style. Not while I'm in charge. Not in this command." Hammond pointed at the jar. "Your recommendations for that one Captain?"

"I'll take care of it. It's not like someone here could open it anyway." She patted it twice. This time, the glowing seal on the floor was clearly visible before the jar vanished. "She's in the Stargazer room. I'm going to chain the jar later on."

"Very well. Dismissed." He paused as he reached the door. "Keep me informed doctor."

"Sir." Giving sloppy salutes, Jamila disappeared in a flash, Jack shuffled out of the room and Janet turned around and checked on Sam once again.

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 23  
Stargazer Laboratory  
July 05, 1998  
1700 Zulu

After dealing with the fact that his desk had been buried under files and memos of varying sizes, lengths and layouts again, Jack slowly slumped over to the entrance of the Stargazer Lab, which was by now nearly ridiculously well secured, better than the isolation rooms and holding cells. A single thought swam in his mind, and he was determined to get an answer. Getting identified by the systems – retina/iris scan, palm scan, and a combo of aura and EEG scan – he entered the lab and was greeted by a field of stars. "Wow." Noticing some of the unusual constellations, he asked, "Which part of the sky is that?"

"Cape Town, South Africa. At least that it is tonight. I wanted to try something easy." She beckoned him closer. "I wonder if you can make them out."

"Uh… well, there's Centaurus." First slowly, but then faster and faster the constellations of the southern sky took form in his mind. "Carina, Lupus, Phoenix, Eridanus… Cetus, Canis Maior, Columba…"

"Argo Navis, Dorado, Taurus, Hydra, Scorpio, Triangulum Austrinum and all the others. Long list." She grinned. "Looks like you did just fine over the years in observing the skies."

"Yeah. Uhm, Jamila…" He so didn't want to rip her out of that starry reverie he loved so much as well, but he was a man with a mission tonight.

"What is it Jack?" she asked, pausing in drawing the star map for tonight.

The man in question shifted uncomfortably. "Well, that stunt with the glowing hand you did on that snakehead earlier… could you do it again?"

"Sure. I remember it clearly now, why?" she asked.

Jack's head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise and… hope glimmering in their depths. "There is someone who could need your help."

"What?!" Her crystal pen fell ringing onto the light box desk, the map-making crystal touch-screen interface of the Stargazer. "Another one possessed?"

Letting out the breath he didn't know he was holding, Jack nodded. "On my third trip through the gate, one of our team was infected."

She raised an eyebrow, irises shining in the darkened room. "And why do you tell me that in the silence of my version of Starry Night™?"

"Uhm…" Jack sighed again. "I…"

"You feel guilty about it. Why?" Her stare penetrated his soul.

That was it. She rendered him speechless. Again. Like… "You know, you sound like my father. Always to the point."

"I _aim_ to please. Now fess up."

The reference to her speciality didn't escape him. "Very funny sniper." Sigh! "His name is Charlie Kawalsky. We couldn't get the thing out by surgical means… he nearly escaped, killing the old CMO on his way out and wounding a few more. Thanks to Teal'c though we could catch him."

"And why is that man so important to you?" she inquired evenly. "Apart from apparently him being a friend to you."

A long, uncomfortable silence followed. "That man is my brother-in-law, the husband of the second-eldest of my sisters," he whispered, staring onto the ground. "I failed them both…"

"How." Her voice was quiet in a way Jack could tell she knew the consequences of that kind of transformation.

"He's in Area 51. Under lock and key, watched 24/7. From time to time, they try to get intel out of him…" He shuddered and tried to turn away.

A long-fingered hand on his shoulder stopped him. "I know what it is like. But again, I was born lucky to be a Bartholomew, and Bartholomew's sole heiress. No-one messes with my dear parents willingly. But it only spared me the worst… As I said a few days ago, otherwise I would have been dissected by now. And anyway Jack, I am here now. We can save him."

"Yeah. We better speak with the General."

"Tea time first. Greet the most tasteless tea set in my collection, Flower Power Randomness!" A silver tray with a certainly very strange tea set, consisting of a traditional western tea pot, sugar jar, milk jar and tea cups, made of finest bone china, but covered with a shrieking-like-a-banshee 70's flower power pattern, inside and outside flew towards the light box desk. The steam from the pot indicated that tea was ready, and the small pastries on the tray spoke of tea time. Two chairs rose from the vines on the floor.

"Wow. I wonder if tea can taste good at all from that one," he joked.

"It is certainly a different experience," she agreed, pouring tea.

"Yeah. Tea under the sky of South Africa."

She grinned. "Milk, Sugar?"

"Sure."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 27  
General Hammond's office  
July 05, 1998  
ca 1800 Zulu

George Hammond sometimes wondered how many forms you had to sign just to get new TP, and decided it were way too many. A light knock on the door stopped his paperwork-musing (sometimes it even caught him). "Come," he barked, only to see his two most senior officers walk into his office, with his 2IC having a rather eager expression written into his body language, although you couldn't see it unless you knew him. "What's this all about? Shouldn't you two be on downtime now?"

"Sir, the situation we had on our hands has maybe given us a way to deal with the Goa'uld in the future. And a method to save Major Kawalsky from his year-long nightmare," Jack stated.

"What?"

"General, I saw Jamila extract a Goa'uld from its host with her bare hands without harming him. Doc even said that all damages inflicted by the parasite were gone."

"As I understand it Colonel the Captain was under the influence of her more advanced alien knowledge." He didn't like being confused, not even by Jack. "I was under the impression that such a thing is unrepeatable until you retrieve your name and thus the Master password, Captain."

"Not exactly sir. I just cannot access the data willingly, but the moment I do it is burned into my conscious memory," Jamila answered, feeling a bit uncomfortable.

Hammond carefully contemplated his misinterpretation. He originally thought that the major part of her active alien knowledge was retrieved by UK military scientists in the moments she had had these flashes, and she then had learned it the hard way. Obviously, that was not the case. "Well, at least it explains how you learned the control over your skills so quickly. Can you describe why?"

Sighing, the tall woman replied, "Basically my memorizing is a very slow installation of programs onto my hard-disk drive by a long, long series of flashbacks." She gave a crooked smile. "Maybe this image helps… a library on a lake ground, and books bubbling to the surface from time to time, especially when triggered. I sit on an island in the lake and fish for the books."

"Oh." Considering this, Jack's underlining excitement made far more sense. "And you think you can free Major Kawalsky from being possessed, Portsmouth?"

"Absolutely sir. It's not more difficult than mending broken bones," she quipped.

"Really. Well folks, you have still downtime, report in at 0900 tomorrow. I have a few phone calls to make. Dismissed."

"Sir."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 25  
Infirmary, Isolation room 6  
July 06, 1998

0930 Zulu

After reporting in, SG-1 made its way to the Infirmary, followed by the General, where they were greeted by a rather disturbing sight… Charles Kawalsky strapped to a hospital bed, sedated, with six SF's built like American football players guarding him, armed to the teeth. "Is that really necessary?" Jamila asked, in her usual tenor-key voice – her voice lacked a distinct voice type, letting her voice pitch range from soprano to high tenor, depending on her mood. She pointed at the guards.

"I am not taking any risks Captain. The Goa'uld has wrecked havoc the last time," Hammond answered, resigned. He and the rest of the team were standing in the observation room overhead.

"Ah. Well then…" Stretching her body, she approached the possessed officer quietly, shedding her human appearance and turning into the blue-haired »Guardian Angel« she was. "Step back," she ordered the SFs. As they didn't move, she made a frustrated sound. "I need the space to concentrate; you are simply too much for my senses! So… _step back_ Airmen, that's an order!"

"You heard her. Step back," Hammond ordered from the observation room.

"Thank you," she said to them after they cleared the direct proximity of the bed. "Well, here we go…" she whispered. Placing her left hand gently on the younger man's shoulder, she enveloped her right in the same mild green light and pushed it slowly into his neck, then moved through his dissolved head up to the height of his nose. Again everyone could hear a grabbing sound, like someone crushing metal, and she pulled out a small head of a Goa'uld, careful not to get close to its teeth. Again, she threw the creature on the floor, pulled her carbonite sword out of thin air, and speared the head of the parasite with the tip of the weapon, killing him. "_God_… makes no mistakes." Again, that strange saying. The sword dissolved into its wielder. "But sometimes… I think there are things which are a close call."

Once more, Jack was surprised by his instincts, for he knew somehow that Jamila couldn't stay on her feet much longer, and so he barked into the microphone, "Everyone, watch out for her!", and two SFs saved her from an unpleasant meet-and-greet with the concrete floor.

"Are you alright ma'am?" the bigger one of them asked concerned.

"Urgh… I feel drained," she grumbled as they steered her to a chair. Meanwhile, the people from the observation room had hustled down to the isolation room. "Then I'll hook you up to your special IV for recharge, ma'am," Janet grinned and rang for the nurse and her 2IC. Together with the nurse she guided her secondary charge to a gurney and bellowed some orders to her 2IC. "Doctor Brightman, check on Major Kawalsky." Afterwards, she wheeled her out.

The blonde physician quickly ordered a clean-up team and started a physical examination on the unconscious Air Force officer. "General Hammond sir? It will take a while to make sure Major Kawalsky is fine – and himself. We'll inform you when all three are up and about."

Jack originally had intended to invade the room as soon as his friend was free from his ordeal, but now he hesitated. Who should he go to? Jamila was basically meditating about cosmic force, and Charlie would not wake before her. Sam on the other hand… "Sir, in that case I'll check on Carter. It would be better if Ferretti or someone else he knows would come and sit with him."

George nodded. "All right. Any recommendations for that?"

"His wife. Lt. Col. Christiana Kawalsky. She's a docent at Air Force academy." Jack paused, considering. "She has been waiting far too long already. I also suggest getting Cassie here, for Carter's sake. Jolinar gave her quite a scare."

"He's right sir," Daniel agreed. "They need to mend their fences."

The base CO nodded again. "Alright people, let's do this. Dismissed."

Samantha Carter Jolinar of Malkshur Samantha Carter Jolinar of Malkshur Samantha Carter Jolinar of Malkshur Samantha Carter Jolinar of Malkshur

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 28  
Infirmary  
July 06, 1998  
1334 Zulu

Daniel approached his friend's far too still form. As the nurse had told him, Sam was wide awake, but she hadn't stirred at all for hours. "Hey, Sam. How's it goin' today?" he gently asked, placing a few flowers on the table. No response. Sighing, he left the room, meeting with his waiting team-mates and the Fraisers. "No use. She's still the same," he stated, shaking his head. Over the last few hours, they all had tried to make her respond, but not even Jamila's intense voice – the navy had woken an hour ago – or Jack's gentle but spirited words had caused a reaction. She seemed like someone who lost something important, lost a part of herself.

A bit hesitantly, Cassie spoke up. "Janet said that the Goa'uld left."

Jamila nodded. "No Goa'uld, but yes. I put her into a nice crystal tank, frozen in time, under lock and key."

"That's right. It's gone. She's the old Samantha Carter. Same person we've always known," Daniel finished.

Upon seeing the girl's uncertainty, Jack added, "Cassie, she's just a little sad right now. But I'll bet she cheers up when she sees you."

"Sam?" Cassandra slipped onto Sam's bed, turning the blond woman around and hugging her. "Sam, it's me." The impassive, sad face of Samantha Carter lit up a bit. "You're going to be okay."

Outside, in the corridor, an Airman – one of Harriman's subordinates from administration – approached Jack and saluted. "Sir, Lt Col Christiana O'Neill-Kawalsky has just signed in. And she seemed not all that happy about not knowing why she is here."

"Let me guess, she came in with an Air Force Colonel with medical badges on her uniform that looks exactly like her," Jack mused.

"Yes sir, how did you know? They're waiting in the briefing room."

"I know these two personally. Oh joy," he sighed. "Thank you Airman. Dismissed."

"Sir."

That pricked Daniel's gossiping ears. "Why do you know these two so well?"

"They're my baby sisters. And they're identical twins," the oldest son of General O'Neill grumbled after a moment of silence. "Time to face the music." Having the responsible Antarian healer on his heels, he left.

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 27  
SGC Briefing Room  
July 06, 1998  
1342 Zulu

"I wonder what they are doing here that is so secret that no-one answers our questions."

"You should know better than to ask, Lainie, you're the Colonel after all."

At the conference table, two identical women – red hair, green eyes, ca 5' 10" – in Air Force Class B's mulled over the absolute weirdness of their situation. The blast blinds were closed.

"I know, I know, I know… so why are you here Chris?" The older one, Colonel Elizabeth Elaine 'Lainie' O'Neill-Dixon, MD, drummed her fingers onto the table in annoyance.

"They said they have Charlie, and that I can finally see him again," Christiana O'Neill-Kawalsky answered, a pained smile on her face. "After a whole year. I wonder what their explanation will be. Why are you here?"

"They said something about my expertise, and a dislike for James Allen MacKenzie (note 5)," the older one of them answered.

"All in due time my dear sisters," Jack joked as he entered, Jamila in tow. Tucked under his left arm were a few folders.

"Jack?" "Jonathan?" the two women asked bewildered.

He sat down. "For one thing, _Dad_ is 'Jonathan'. I'm _Jack_. And welcome. If you would please sign these…" He pushed two of the folders to his sisters.

"A non-disclosure agreement?" Lainie wondered. "Jack, what the hell are you all doing in this mountain?"

"All in good time. But if you don't sign, I cannot tell you anything at all, and that would not be a good idea, given what you two will be dealing with. So please…" Surprisingly, Lainie didn't hesitate, though Chris did. The younger twin's face was clouded with worry. "What's wrong Chrissie? This is about your husband."

"I…"

"And by the way, why so eager Lainie?"

"At least I'll know why the hell I am here. And what the hell you all are doing in this mountain," she smirked.

"I just find it crazy that I finally hear something of Charlie. One year _after_ he disappeared," Christiana finally answered, a tad bitterly as she signed.

"Believe it Colonel. Your hopes are justified this time." Jamila stood by the shut window, her back to the table. "Your turn Jack."

"All right…" In his usual to-the-point manner, Jack summarized the history of the Stargate, and what happened to Kawalsky. "In the end, if it wasn't for the Captain here, Kawalsky would still be under lock and key. And as we are at that already, Jamila… show _it_ to them."

"What? How?" Chris was simply bewildered.

"Yes sir." Clapping her hands, the system reacted to the technopathics and the blinds opened. "Colonels, may I introduce you to… the Stargate."

"_Oh my God!_" they exclaimed.

"64 tons of the alien superconducting mineral Naquadah and some crystal material, 6.7 metres diameter. Capable of sending energy and matter all over the galaxy in a matter of seconds, if I remember correctly," Jamila rattled down the description. "And before I forget it, where are my manners? Captain Jamila Lady Bartholomew, Royal Navy." She saluted briskly.

Still rather overwhelmed, the O'Neill twins returned the salute. "How does that work?" Lainie wondered.

"Let's have a look later on. SG-2 is going to return soon," Jack told them.

"And what's with your hair?" the psychiatrist added as she noticed the odd hair colour of Jamila. "I never saw someone in the military dyeing her hair blue, especially with the family background your name implies."

Jamila smirked sadly. "My hair is like that not because of hair dye. It's because I am not a human being. And thus, my hair is not made of keratin but technology grade Tritanium, a super-light metal, with traces of Cobalt and Platinum. The Cobalt and Tritanium give it its blue colour. Usually I use an illusion to trick people into seeing that my hair is brown, as it was when I was a child, but down here is no need for living a frigging cover-story. And before we stray away from the topic, thanks to the fact that I am not a human but a so-called Antarian, I was able to free Major Kawalsky from the parasite."

"You're joking," Lainie whispered.

"Hardly, I am afraid." Jamila's tone turned from monotonous to regretful.

"Wait a sec… you have _wires_ growing on your head while in any form beyond human Jamila?" Jack exclaimed.

"Yes, hollow wires, why?"

"Never mind."

"Okay…" She turned to the women. "To answer your question why you two are here Doctor, despite all my abilities, I cannot heal the scars on the Major's soul."

"But we can," it dawned to Chris. "Where is he?"

"Infirmary, Isolation Room 6," Jack replied. "Lainie, here is his medical file."

"Thanks. I take it you didn't want Colonel MacKenzie taking care of the aftermath, that's why I am here, huh?" She flipped through the file, noticing the nod of her oldest brother. "I've gotta warn you Jack, if my personal link to him threatens to cloud my judgement as his shrink I hand him over to Allen."

Jack got up, a grim expression on his face. "I know."

Before they could leave the room though, the Stargate sprung to life. "Offworld Activation!" Lt Simmons, who had sat all the time at the watch desk in the corner, jumped out of his chair. "It's SG-2 sir. They're back as ordered."

"Very good Lieutenant, back to your station," Jack ordered, grinning at the awe on the faces of his sisters.

"Sir, ma'am." Simmons sat down again. In this moment, General Hammond hushed down the stairs to greet the home comers. Jack led the women into the control room, just as Hammond called into the microphone, "Welcome home SG-2. Report to infirmary for post-ops exam. De-briefing is tomorrow at 0900."

"Shall we?" Jamila grinned. "I'm sure you two are dying to meet Major Kawalsky again."

"Of course!" Chris beamed.

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 25  
Infirmary, Isolation room 6  
July 06, 1998  
1410 Zulu

"He looks so peaceful." Christiana stared down at the still form of her husband. After determining that he was definitely himself, they had lifted the restrains.

"I don't know… it looks a bit like he was sedated or something," Lainie mumbled. "Ma'am?"

"He wasn't sedated. It's a sleeping technique of mine, placing you into absolute deep-sleep," Jamila answered from the Observation Bay. "He needed recovery."

"Sounds like something from a super-esoteric to me."

"Welcome to my life doctor," Jamila sighed.

"How long?" Louis Ferretti, who had stayed in the infirmary after his post-ops exam to sit at his old friend's side, wondered.

"He should wake any minute," the alien woman answered by microphone.

"Ow, did someone get the number of that bus…?" Like on command, Major Charles Kawalsky awoke from his healing slumber. "You are all way too loud… can't a man get his –" he started to complain, but never finished, for his wife suddenly clung to him for dear life. "Chris?"

"Charlie…" she sobbed. "Charlie, Charlie, Charlie… I thought I would never be going to see you again…"

"Hey… I'm here my love." Taking in his surroundings, Charlie hugged and then kissed his wife.

"Hey Kawalsky," Louis Ferretti grinned. "How are you doing?"

"I'm shaken, totally confused…" He sighed, but then turned to his friend and family, a relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "But… I'm me… I'm me."

"Welcome back Charlie."

"Lainie. I take it I will be at your mercy after I get out of here," he grimaced.

Eliza laughed. "Damn straight."

"Hey, where is that blue-haired »angel« who saved me?" the Special Forces officer wondered. "I have to say thank you," he quickly clarified at the incoming glare of both his wife and sister-in-law.

"You mean Portsmouth?" Ferretti asked and turned towards the Observation Bay overhead. "She's up– What? Where has she gone to?" The glass room was seemingly empty. "I could swear she was upstairs in the Observation Room."

"Shame. Who's she anyway…"

The leader of SG-2 chuckled. "Long story…"

Contrary to the belief of the people downstairs, Jack, Jamila and Hammond had not left…yet. They simply stood in the door area, which was not visible from below. "You're leaving, just like this Jamila? Not even expecting gratitude?"

"The Life of a »good one« has its own value Jack. Besides, I don't like to be praised. One of the flaws in having been called a prodigy, even without valid reason," the woman in question answered, hand already on the door handle. "Anyway, you should go and see your friend. I am going to see my family for the first time in two years. If that is okay, General sir."

"Permission granted. SG-1 is on stand-down anyway until next Monday," George nodded. "Dismissed."

"Well then… see you next week gentlemen. Sir." With a crisp salute, she was gone.

"In that case General, I'm going to sit with Kawalsky for a while."

"Very well. Dismissed."

**

* * *

Notes**

**1** From Dante Alighieri's epic poem "The Divine Comedy", a quote about the gate of hell. Here: a figure of speech about the fact that no normal mortal has ever beaten Jamila in a mental invasion due to her vast and really old spirit. In a way, Jamila asks Jolinar to surrender with the quote.  
Full (translated) quote: Through me you pass into the city of woe: / Through me you pass into eternal pain: / Through me among the people lost for aye. //Justice the founder of my fabric mov'd: / To rear me was the task of power divine, / Supremest wisdom, and primeval love. //Before me things create were none, save things / Eternal, and eternal I endure. / Abandon hope all ye who enter here.

**2** Antarians have Naquadah in their blood, and the base of their blood is Tritanium-Fluoride (instead of Iron in a human). Tritanium, especially Technology-grade Tritanium (blue, weapons-grade is white like platinum) can be detected by a Symbiote and former hosts. Technology-grade Tritanium forms the Fluorine compound in Antarian blood. Hence, an Antarian can be sensed by a Goa'uld or Tok'ra, and be distinguished from their own kind.

**3** In the Kabbalah (Jewish/Christian mythological tradition), Assiah is the world of physical existence, mortality and action. Here, Assiah is the name of Earth in High Antarian; henceforth an Assian is a Human from Earth.

**4 **De-maii: Third of the Antarian forms of address/greetings. In general showing disgust and disrespect for the addressed. Addition shenten (an extremely rude term) makes it insulting. The other two are:  
De-ra'iya (Respectful; affectionate if with addition: janar)  
De-i'hora (Neutral)

**5 **Dr MacKenzie first name is James, but so is the name of one of Lainie's (and thus Jack's) brothers, so I added a likely middle name. Lainie works at the AF Academy hospital and is thus MacKenzie's colleague, so she most likely knows his given name.

* * *

**AN: Phew. Another one done. The next chap, Flashbacks I, will be a small collection of redone scenes from "Prisoners" until "Bane", dealing with team-bonding, backgrounds... and of course, Flashbacks.**


	6. Episode 3: Flashbacks I

**Disclaimer: I own Jamila. I own my story. I own my own ideas. I DON'T OWN THE Stargate FRANCISE DAMN IT!!!**

**And I would love to lynch Joseph Malozzi (Stargate Show-writer) for saying in his BLOG that nearly every S/J moment/hint ended on the floor of the cutter's room because a Sci-Fi Channel episode must be 43:27 min long max!**

**

* * *

Year 2, Episode 3: Flashbacks, Part 1**

**Summary/Teaser: "Prisoners", "The Gamekeeper", "Need", "Thor's chariot", "Message in a bottle" and "Family" retold or mentioned. In "Thor's chariot", Jamila learns of her ability to activate and control the Stargate without unstable vortex – thanks to technopathy and meta-energetic tuning…**

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 23  
Stargazer Laboratory  
August 25, 1998  
1300 Zulu

After the Linea disaster, the three-weeks freak stunt with the sarcophagus and the VR nightmare at the Gamekeeper's world – the thing still gave Jack the creeps, considering he had to relive one of his first failures on Black Ops, and he was fairly sure that Daniel was just as shaken as himself – Jack did for the first time in years things he went to college for: drawing and analyzing star maps, together with Jamila and Carter. She hadn't been affected by the VR, being Antarian, and thus as immune as Sam (as Ex-host) and Teal'c (as Jaffa). Instead, she had been forced to alternately watch Daniel and him fail. The Colonel had found using the Stargazer itself directly a bit difficult… apparently a human's brain couldn't take all that intel at once, so the human amplifier interface (HAI) had filters which made the additional information a mental image or a hologram so you could process it at your own pace. So far, he and Sam had tested the HAI, consisting of some fancy headgear and gloves which reminded a bit of a ribbon device, but made of a silver-iridium-titan alloy (the closest they could get to Tritanium), with no side-effects than feeling a bit overwhelmed in the first few hours. _"The British had done a good job with fool-proofing these,"_ he thought grinning, especially at seeing his young astrophysicist Captain as hyper as a kid after plundering the candy store while using the Super-Map-Maker the Stargazer had become, thanks to the uplink to the satellites of NORAD. It had surprised him how easily the things he learned more than 25 years ago came back to him, and the routine they had settled in: While Jamila, who was the only one capable of fully maintaining the system and taking in all intel guided them through the star fields and images in question, Jack jotted the map down on the light box and Sam made the analysis and the other half of the calculations… or helped Jack.

This led to the project of today: Space debris. The fallout of a young civilisation venturing into Space, like Earth/Assiah, was by now a problem and danger for future space missions not to be underestimated, and it was not as complicated as some deep-space map, a good restart for both astronomers to get their feet wet again. "Just a question Carter, why has never anyone thought about that earlier? I mean, our shuttles and the like don't have shields or something like that…" he mused as he put down another debris orbit.

"No idea sir, although now it seems stupid that we didn't," Sam answered, her eyes already on the next piece of debris and it's orbit data. "Plotting course… I love this computer. It's like it reads my thoughts!" With the Earth Stargazer and its uplink to NORAD, the original Seeker project – a Goa'uld attack alert – had been changed: The Seeker device, a combo of Earth and reverse-engineered Antarian tech, was placed on the intended planet, P5C-629, and would send the alert directly to the crystalloid Supercomputer. Although the Seeker had been built by a bunch of British engineers, Sam was still filled with satisfaction about it, since it was _her_ project, and _her_ program which controlled the Seeker.

"It _is_ reading your thoughts Carter," Jamila chuckled. "But do not get so overexcited, it can be harmful… and gives me quite a headache – I am actually supplanting the AI core right now by the way…"

"What? Why should I not ask questions ma'am?" Sam's current mood was usually not 100 percent, given that the USAF had confined her to base, no thanks to Jolinar. The Stargazer and the connected Seeker were among of the few things which could captivate her interest enough to make her smile for a while.

"One at a time is more than enough for a human brain, even with the filters; believe me." Jamila was tired. Acting as the I-core was as tiring as healing herself or others.

"Wait a sec… you mean if I ask for too much information at once, my brain won't be able to handle it?" Sam asked; eyes wide in shock.

Even Jack had put down his stylus, more than just interested. "Why do I have full access then?" It was a good distraction from the last trip down memory lane, the whole thing with the Naquadah and the sarcophagus addiction of Daniel had reminded both Special ops officers – US _and_ UK – of not so pleasant meetings with Iraqi prison cells, chains and drugs.

"Simple. Would you ask more than one question at once, Jack?" She grimaced, knowing that he seriously needed something else to think about than that crazy last mission.

_Three weeks ago…_

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Jack's House  
441 Irvington Ct (note 1)  
July 30, 1998  
ca 1705 Zulu

At his own insistence, Daniel had been released from the infirmary, but it was only half a victory. Janet had released him, yes, but under the care of SG-1's mother hen, Jack, and its evil assistant (Jamila, who was still waiting for a shipment of furniture for her house), which translated into _real_ downtime. And, just like _right now_, teatime. So he sat with his friend and house guest in the living room, being served in best London manner with tea. "Thanks… you really don't have coffee?"

"You are pushing the envelope, Jackson." Jamila handed him the bone china cup. "This is _tea time_."

"Sorry. Thank you," he accepted the cup, albeit with hands so shaken that the western style cup clattered.

"Something the matter Daniel?" Jack was distributing the pastries, but the noise caught his attention.

"No. Yes… urgh… I don't know… It's just, will I ever feel alright again?" he whispered, trembling.

Both officers sighed. Fearing for her tea cup, Jamila took the tea away and placed it on the couch table, while Jack put a muffin into Daniel's hands. "Give it time Space monkey. Give your world time to stop turning upside down."

Taking a bite, Daniel smiled bitter-sweetly, calming down a bit. Sipping his tea, the whole thing reminded him of a question he had wanted to ask the two soldiers since they stopped him in the storage room. "Jack… what did you mean with 'Oh, look at you. I know what this is?' And then _you_" he pointed at Jamila, "saying that you both know what it's like; that I can get through it?"

Now it was Jack's place to shudder (Jamila nearly dropped _her_ muffin) and they both wondered if they could avoid the question.

"Jack? Jamila?" he prompted.

"Do we have to answer his question?" he sighed.

Jamila emptied her tea cup. "We started it Jack," she replied, shaking her head. "Might as well be honest. He won't drop it anyway."

Jack stared into his empty tea cup and decided he needed something more than tea for this answer. "I need a beer for this."

"Coming right away." Now Daniel could actually see why Jamila sat facing the kitchen: this way, she saw the fridge. It opened, closed and two Guinness bottles flew into the living room, uncapping themselves in midair and coming to a halt in front of the men.

"Thanks." Jack snatched his bottle and took a few gulps out of it.

"Nice trick," Daniel smiled, but then frowned again. "So…" he grabbed his own beer.

The colonel sighed. "You remember I told you about Iraq? About ending up in prison there?" Daniel nodded, unsure how this would play out. "They drugged me, got me addicted."

"You too huh?" Jamila sighed, calling a bottle of white rum from the fridge, complete with lemon slices and ice filled tumbler, pouring herself some of the clear spirit.

"Yep."

"Why?!" he whispered, horrified. Not only the thought scared the young archaeologist, but also the resigned grimaces of his companions.

"Torture." Jack replied succinctly. "An addict will tell you anything just for another fix." He shifted restlessly at the pressing memories. "I was a mess when I got out."

"But not at the brink of a mental breakdown I take it?" Jamila gulped down some of the rum.

"What did they give you? Normal drugs would hardly work… no, wait…" Jack froze.

"You know my medical file a bit too well Jack. Have you already read that nice list on medicine I can_not_, under any circumstances, take in?" He nodded slowly and she paused, letting Daniel digest all that new information. "They gave me psychiatric medication. Antipsychotics, antidepressants, mood stabilizers, hypnotics and truth drugs. As cocktail in overdose." Her voice was hard while she was gazing into nothingness, remembering.

Daniel stared at her, terror freezing his face. "Why?" he finally gasped.

"The only way to break my defences is to stop me from thinking clearly, thus disrupting my ability to shield my mind and bio-control. And so they did." She downed her rum. "Suddenly, I could not shut out all the others… the desperation of the other POWs, the disgusting ideas of the guards… it was a nightmare. I was halfway up to insanity as one of the guards was stupid enough to accidentally give me water instead of the med cocktail. And releasing one of my hands from these bloody chains."

Jack shuddered. He had heard in the first week in that prison that a single woman had committed an onslaught on her way out of the camp after one of the guards had tended her needs. He first had dismissed it as rumour, but now… "That fool gave you what you needed."

"Yes. Even as it was for the blink of an eye, I could think clearly for the first time in a month in that waste pipe… and the first thing I came up with was 'I have to get the hell out of here' and the next thing I remember clearly is the desert and my bloody hands." She poured herself another glass of rum. "Afterwards, I teleported to the next known allied base camp, stumbled into the watch-house and collapsed."

"Just a question, what was the name of the prison?" Jack asked. _'Please, please, please don't let it be __that__ hellhole…'_ he chanted frantically in his head.

"Is that really so important Jack?" she grumbled. His silence spoke volumes. "It was Abu Ghraihb (note 2). As far as I remember… that was the same place you were in, right?"

"Yeah…" was the sighed answer.

There was a silence for a few minutes as Daniel absorbed the information about his friends. "Thanks for telling me." Daniel said quietly. "It helps."

"I'm glad I can help someone," Jack quipped. He glared at the beer, surprised at his own admission.

"So am I." Jamila stared at her Bacardi bottle, and decided then that she had had enough for today.

"Milady?"

"What is it Jackson?"

"Call me Daniel."

"I would be honoured, as long as you return the favour… Daniel," she smirked.

"How flattering." Daniel smiled weakly. "But I must decline. A lady of your accomplishments should be referred to with the respect she deserves."

"If you insist…" Waving her hand at the cups and tea pot, the offending objects made their way to the sink. "I think we should get dinner, gentlemen."

"Yeah. Pizza everyone?" Jack cleaned off the table.

"Why not," Daniel answered quietly. The three shared an understanding glance. They might not be okay right now, but they now realized that they would manage. Together.

(End Flashback)

That needed little thinking. "No," he grinned, grateful for the distraction.

"Most men don't, especially if they are not specifically scientists. And you understand High Antarian," she summarized.

"Now I get why you gave me only limited access, apart from not speaking High Antarian… I think too much, right?" Sam realized, a bit down.

"Bingo. People with over-analytic minds ask the system too many questions at once and as consequence, they get their brains fried since there is no AI to protect them. We found that one out at the first test… the guy needed a whole year to recover from the data overload. You have to get used to think as a Stargazer user." At seeing the sadness on the younger woman's face, she added, "But I don't doubt you'll get the hang of it quickly. Come on people, this is the last one for today. Cool… We have already more than 60 percent mapped…"

"Why don't we finish today ma'am?"

"Because _I_ will not last that long, Assian. I have already a headache. Now, back to work." She tracked the full orbital data, making it visible for the two humans.

"Thanks Jamila." Jack copied the three-dimensional course data into the 2-D chart, a copy of Earth's surface.

"With all due respect, what did you just call me ma'am?" Sam was a bit bewildered.

"She said »Assian« Carter; that means 'Earth Human', like the Goa'uld »Tau'ri«. In Antarian, Assiah is the name of Earth, so humans are »Assianes«," Jack recited. "Was that correct?"

"Well done," she smiled. "You're making good progress."

"Oh. So it was some kind of Freudian slip, huh…" Sam murmured, somewhat embarrassed.

"No offence there Carter. I sometimes have a hard time keeping the two things apart, especially after using so much mental energy…" Jamila sighed.

"No offence taken ma'am," Sam smiled, picking up her own stylus. As she bent over to help Jack, her fingers brushed the older man's hand unintentionally, causing her to rapidly pull back her hand, as if she had been burned. Mortified at the questioning look of her CO Sam fought desperately a blush creeping up her neck. _"Hmm… such great hands — He's your CO! He's your CO! He's your CO! Quit dreaming woman, you're far too geeky for him! He's your CO! He's your CO! He's your CO!"_ she chanted in her head. "Finished."

To Jack's credit, one must say that he managed _not_ to blush, having similar thoughts, starting with _"way too good for me"_ over _"way too young for me"_ to _"She's your 2IC for crying out loud, idiot! Quit daydreaming! Hands off!"_ and finishing with some self-depreciation for good measure.

"Phew. And good job everyone. »Stargazer, save project as 'Assiah: Debris orbit', including 2-D Map Transcript«," Jamila ordered the system in High Antarian. Just as she left the Controller platform the PA sounded an "Unscheduled offworld activation!"

"Great. Just what the doctor ordered," Jack mused as he put down his stylus and HAI, thus logging out, making his way to the door.

The women burst into laughter (considering the gathered academic degrees) and followed him. »Stargazer, switch to Seeker mode«, was the Antarian's last order before leaving.

As it turned out in the control room, SG-1 now had to deal with the fallout of one of their first missions – including rash actions. Cimmeria had been burned by Heru-ur since the protective hammer device of the planet wasn't working anymore; the original team had destroyed it so Teal'c could escape. Determined to face the consequences, they made the trip to the once protected planet and met up with the female village leader, Gairwyn, who helped them a year ago.

Believing that Kendra, a former host to a Goa'uld, could help them again, they asked to meet up with her… but Kendra and her family had been slaughtered, leaving behind her Goa'uld possessions, a Kara Kesh (Hand device) and a hand-held healing device, triggering some of the remnants of Sam's blending with the still frozen Jolinar – she was compatible with the inner Goa'uld tech, but still had no real idea of how to use them.

Being severely outnumbered, outgunned and cut of the gate and supplies (especially Jamila's sniper ammo – she had only two clips with her), both Sam and Daniel suggested to seek the "Hall of Thor's Might", a place where they expected to find some Asgard weaponry, which Jack agreed to, given their limited options. For once, Jamila went with the scientists, since the ex-TACP claimed that they still needed a babysitter, causing Sam to giggle and Daniel to complain. "As if I need a babysitter."

"Should I remind you two about your behaviour with Ashura's traps?" she scoffed as they made their way to the entrance of the "Hall of Thor's Might", following Gairwyn.

"That's not necessary ma'am," Sam hastily amended, fighting the urge to blush and grimace. Both of them had managed to nearly kill themselves more than once at being not careful enough around alien traps, and the Antarian city has provided the worst kind, being tempting in their beauty, but deadly enough to kill fully trained Antarians, capable of overriding and/or circumventing their healing powers. "I'll behave."

Sweat dropping, Daniel grimaced. "We're never going to live that one down huh… okay, me too."

----------

Cimmeria  
Road to the Stargate  
August 26, 1998  
Local Afternoon

In the end, it was not SG-1 who saved the day, but one really cool Asgard Bilisknir-class battle cruiser – namely, _the_ Bilisknir, under the command of the Supreme Commander of the Asgard fleet and military: Thor – beaming the whole invasion into space or custody, sans Heru-ur, who ran away through the Stargate.

"Oh, my!" Jack whispered loudly at seeing the hammer-headed battle cruiser descending into the cloudy atmosphere, after Daniel had ticked him towards it.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I think this is Thor's chariot," Daniel intoned in pure awe. "An Asgard mothership… I've heard them described in Jaffa legend," Teal'c added, amazed.

After everything was over, another beam placed Gairwyn back on terra firma, who greeted the team with one gigantic smile. "Gairwyn!" Jamila grinned. The Assians took the few steps towards the Cimmerian woman.

"The Etins are gone." She waved her hand at the now Goa'uld-free landscape. "Thor sends his thanks. It was your help that made this possible."

Daniel smiled sheepishly. "Well to be honest with you… I think we got kind of lucky." He scratched his head.

Unfazed, the red-head continued, "He told me to give you a message to satisfy your curiosity. I'm to tell you he's a member of a species who have visited your world often. They are a friend to all, protector to all, except the Goa'uld, with whom they are at war."

Jack sighed. "Well that's very nice, but I'd still like to meet the old guy."

Gairwyn smiled and shook her head. "Well, he said that like us, you're still much too young. Although, he had also a message for the Antarian among you, to answer a few of your questions, guardian."

Jamila's stared at her wide-eyed. "What… what is it?" she asked hoarsely, heart racing.

"Unlike your companions, your race is already an old friend to his race. He asked me to give you a hint for finding your name and your home world: although not being its creators, your race has mastered the Portal, enough that your natural abilities will open new paths." She looked over Sam's shoulder at the valley, ignoring the bewildered stares of the team for a moment. "For us there is still much to rebuild; Thor has promised to leave an Asgard teacher behind to help us."

Relief washed over Teal'c's face. "Then Cimmeria will be a safe world again. That is good."

"Yes it is. I'm to tell you. Thor's new hammer will make an exception for the one called Teal'c. You are welcome here any time," the warrior woman smiled. Then the ship left.

These words finally broke the tension which froze SG-1 to the spot. "Thank you," Daniel nodded.

----------------

After retrieving their weapons ("My rifle!" *hug* "Okay-y…" "Drop it Daniel. A Sniper's first love is its rifle." "It's still crazy Jack."), SG-1 parted ways with the Cimmerians and returned to the gate. "So ma'am… do you know what Thor's message for you meant?"

"I have a fair idea Carter," the sniper answered. "It has something to do with technopathy and the meta-energetic tuning ability. I think he meant opening the Stargate without DHD."

A "_What?!_" and two lifted eyebrows were the reward.

"It would make sense. The message said that my kind, the Antarians, has _mastered_ the Portal, enough that our _natural abilities_ will open _new paths_," she continued. "The ability to control technology remotely by thought is technopathy. It can be enhanced in effect by the ability to tune yourself to the basics of matter and energy and use that stuff, meta-energetic tuning."

It clicked in Sam's head, as if a light bulb had been turned on above it. "Wait… this sounds like the Nox abilities of bio-electric tuning and to open the gate without touching the actual DHD! But we always thought that they use technology for the latter."

"Maybe they do. Who knows? It is possible that they use an enhancer technology to open the gate. But I am fairly certain I can do it without such help. I saw the security footage how that Nox woman did that," Jamila smirked. "And I think I can copy that stunt."

"You _think_ you can do that?" Jack yelped.

"We can always try the MALP first, Jack. Or a radio signal."

"She has a point Jack," Daniel grinned.

"Indeed."

"Teal'c, have you ever seen an Antarian doing this?" Sam wondered at noticing the faint hint of a smirk on the Jaffa's lips.

Lifting an eyebrow, he nodded. "Indeed. Only once though. The attempt of conquest of the world I saw this was quite successful in the beginning… but the local appointed Teacher-Guardian was equally quick in evacuating the capital and calling help, once we landed on the surface. Afterwards, it was only a matter of… counting our dead and running from the burning skies."

"Sounds about right." The Antarian chuckled.

"Well…" Jack knew by now it was basically pointless to say no, and they still could use the radio signal test before. "I know it's pointless trying to stop you, so we try first the radio signal and the MALP."

"Thank you Jack." Jamila turned back to the Gate and exhaled. "Here goes nothing…" The air started crackling slightly, and a faint glow surrounded her in a pillar.

Meanwhile, Sam had got her multi-purpose scanner out and gasped. "Sir! She's generating a really strong EM-field… focussed at the Gate directly!"

"Why is that Carter?!"

"I think that is a side-effect of using technopathy at such a large scale sir, usually the field is far smaller and weaker. Also, it seems like she is actually _attracting_ energy at a larger scale than usual… this is amazing…"

"Silence please…" Mimicking Lya's arm movement (note 3), Jamila recited Earth's address. "Auriga, Cetus, Centaurus, Cancer, Scutum, Eridanus, Lanes: Cimmeria!" and the Stargate complied, spreading a wormhole inside – without a kawoosh.

"_Oh my god_!" the humans yelled, totally surprised.

Panting and huffing, Jamila stumbled back. "Teal'c… does this fit your tale?"

The Jaffa inclined his head. "Indeed."

"Are you okay Jamila?" Jack stepped closer.

"A little dizzy. I should have recharged before we left Assiah." She wiped her forehead. "I suggest we send the radio signal now. Testing the thing. And warning about the MALP."

"Here goes nothing…"

-------------------------------

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 27  
SGC Briefing Room  
August 26, 1998  
1730 Zulu

In the end, Jamila's 'experiment' proved true, much to everyone's delight. Antarians could open the Stargate, just like the Nox. The one most delighted about it was Jamila herself though, for it was the first Antarian stunt she ever learned without a flashback but only a hint instead.

"I still don't see what is so cool about this that your enthusiasm skyrockets Jamila," Jack wondered on their way home. They had been given downtime for the rest of the week.

"Simple Jack. I've never figured out a _Special Skill_, like Extraction, on my own. It was always preceded by a flashback. Stargate Operation however I _extracted_ by myself from the depths of my subconscious in an effort of will," Jamila grinned.

"Nice. Here we are, home sweet home. I take it you are going to London ASAP."

"The day after tomorrow actually. I wonder if you all would like to come though… London is wonderful at this time of the year. The Proms (note 4) are playing."

Jack locked his truck and let them in. "Maybe another time."

She shrugged. "Okay."

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Jamila's Colorado Springs House  
442 Irvington Ct (note 5)  
September 12, 1998  
ca 2045 Zulu

After _Message in a Bottle_

Following their last 'weird alien encounter' (alien time capsule) which Jamila had named a "_Message in a Bottle_" – she had started to read all mission reports of the team up to date and started to name the ones she found most interesting – SG-1 and a good portion of the SGC were actually enjoying Jamila's housewarming party. The last renovations, including European isolation standards, rewiring and the addition of Antarian ceiling fibre optics (energy saving light) and security systems to the house, as well as remodelling the roof of the garage turned bicycle-workshop into an observation platform/balcony had been finished a few days ago. After moving an impossible amount of stuff across the Atlantic, ranging from photographs and paintings over an extensive edged weapon and a book collection to the rest of her tea set collection and her wardrobe, SG-1 had helped putting the stuff into the house. The finishing flourish had been the delivery of her new grand piano, her bicycle and a telescope to die for. It marked her move-out from Jack's and her move-in across the street.

General Hammond approached the Navy who had, after proper mingling, settled down at the piano, playing soft jazz. "Looks like everyone is having a great time Captain. Great work on the house by the way. It certainly suits you…"

Finishing the pattern, she grinned before changing riffs. "Thank you sir. Not too anachronistic for you?"

"Not at all. It merges historical and modern things quite nicely." The corners of his mouth were pulled up in the faint hint of a smile.

"No TV ma'am?" Sam came back from her tour, a beer in hand. A local caterer had ensured that everyone's needs were satisfied.

"Not yet. Any music wishes? I can also sing, but then I would insist that everyone comes in and you set the sound sys."

Sam was speechless; however, Janet Fraiser took this as her cue to step in, ushering a herd of junior officers in front of her into the room and away from the caterers. "How about something to dance to ma'am? At least a bit more modern if you can manage… if you don't object sir. Great party by the way ma'am."

"Quite the contrary Dr Fraiser, I'd like to hear it too." Hammond's smile slowly turned into a grin. This party was a great opportunity to get behind that 'sparkling' façade the navy displayed on a normal day – when she was NOT sulking, complaining, cracking weird jokes (most of them puns, wicked and/or black), making short stuff out of Marines, being brilliant in anything work-related, yelling at geek-type scientists for talking too much and above all, understanding Jack O'Neill better than most on base, which was somewhat weird. The two of them were like, well, there came only two images to George's mind, the Janus-head or one of them looking into a mirror and seeing the other, and he was fairly sure it had not just to do with their all-too-similar careers but with her being an Antarian and a Briton. "Whatever you'll think of shall be fine with me."

"You ordered it, you'll have it. Get everyone in," she smirked evilly. "I just have the right one in mind… Carter, you're creating a draught with your mouth like this."

Sam unfroze, blushed, and then rushed to set up the hi-fi system, handing the hostess as a finisher a cordless headset. "Ma'am…"

Meanwhile, the SG-5 Marines had cleared the living room enough to leave a place for a small crowd around the piano, and the doors to the terrace were wide open, and Major Harper approached her as well. "Ready whenever you are, Skipper."

Jack crept up beside her, the other males on the team and seriously every senior officer who was not on base in tow. "What are you playing?"

Jamila didn't answer. Instead she activated the headset, stretched her hands and began to play. Some really slow and rather melancholic notes marked the start, halting nearly all activity in and around the house.

"_List__'ning as the wind blows from across the great divide  
voices trapped in yearning, memories trapped in time  
the night is my companion, and solitude my guide  
would I spend forever here and not be satisfied?  
And I would be the one  
to hold you down  
kiss you so hard  
I'll take your breath away  
and after, I'd wipe away the tears  
just close your eyes dear…"_

The reaction of her Assian team-mates was rather shaken the moment they recognized the rare music (Sarah McLachlan: Possession), especially given the raw power and impact the Captain's voice had. _'Wow. A shame she never considered being a professional singer,'_ Daniel thought, stunned. Her British »accent« gave the music the impression of falling rain or crashing waves.

Jack's reaction was more complex, since the lyrics reminded him… of a certain incident a year ago which involved the locker room, an alien virus, a NATO olive tank top… _'Okay, some serious blush fighting was obviously needed,'_ he thought. This led to notion No 2, her voice. _'Why so sad? No… not sad. Tired. Tired of being nearly insane. Tired of nightmares. Tired of all.'_

"_Through this world I've stumbled  
so many times betrayed  
trying to find an honest word to find  
the truth enslaved  
oh you speak to me in riddles  
and you speak to me in rhymes  
my body aches to breathe your breath  
your words keep me alive"_

'_How sad.'_ Recognizing the sad, resigned undertone, Jack nearly sighed, knowing the feeling all too well. Around him and the piano, people were dropping jaws, rendered speechless.

"_and I would be the one  
to hold you down  
kiss you so hard  
I'll take your breath away  
and after, I'd wipe away the tears  
just close your eyes dear…"_

Unfortunately, Sam was not even half as successful in fighting the serious change of colour she was developing, considering that chorus reminded her of both the Broca virus and Antarctica, especially since the Colonel confessed later on while they were in recovery that he had mixed up her name with that of his wife – apparently since Sara O'Neill had equalled comfort of any type in his head for a very long time, he had done an Freudian slip and called her Sara instead of Sam – and apologized for the slip. She was getting a slight tint of pink and wondered what the Captain's family was like.

"_Into this night I wander  
it's morning that I dread  
another day of knowing of  
the path I fear to tread  
oh into the sea of waking dreams  
I follow without pride  
Cause nothing stands between us here  
and I won't be denied"_

Hammond was among the stunned and speechless, not only for the great performance, but also for the baring of soul it provided for him. She was still a difficult read, but the intensity she sung _this_ tune with could not be denied. _'Jack's right. She's suffering an identity crisis. Damn.'_

"_and I would be the one  
to hold you down  
kiss you so hard  
I'll take your breath away  
and after, I'd wipe away the tears  
just close your eyes…"_

With a slow flourishing solo, the song ended. Silence reigned for a while the room… which listener it was who started clapping, no-one but maybe the local Antarian would have known. A full standing ovation, complete with wolf-whistles and cat-calls, did the strange but stunning performance justice and provided enough cover for Sam to hurry out into the recently renewed garden. Unfortunately, no-one ever escaped Janet Fraiser, CMO, Infirmary tyrant and, as Jack put it, resident Napoleonic Power Monger with an awareness for other's discomfort which (nearly) rivalled the hostess's actual senses successfully. "Not so fast Sam." They were standing in the middle of the old rose bushes. "What's with the blush?"

"_I'm not blushing!"_ Sam shrieked, turning pink again. Just great.

"And I am six feet tall. Seriously Sam, what's so wrong with the song that you blush?"

Letting her blond head hang, the astrophysicist sighed. "Just some old memories Janet. The song reminded me of some things." From the living room, they could now hear the piano again, this time with the theme of The Pink Panther. "Is that enough?"

"For now. Believe me, you will fess up soon." She grinned evilly. "At the latest on the next Tequila night." Sam groaned. "Come to think of it, I'll invite Captain Bartholomew to join us. She will most likely get more out of you than me…"

"Please, no… well, thanks for the warning." Grimace.

Janet turned back to the house. "I'm happy to please."

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Jamila's Colorado Springs House  
442 Irvington Ct  
September 12, 1998  
ca 2200 Zulu

Inside, the party showed first dissolving tendencies, starting with SG-3 leaving – they had a mission tomorrow – followed by a constant stream of various other personnel. "Great party ma'am. I hope you do more of these soon…" Louis Ferretti grinned. The members of SG-2 were among the last.

"Thank you. And thanks for the rose bush. I was really wondering what I am going to do with that garden…"

"Can't have a garden like this without roses. Anyway, we had a great time. Good Night."

"Good night Ferretti. And good night everyone." Jamila grinned. "Sir."

George had approached the hostess. "I totally agree with everyone else. I had a great time Captain."

"Thank you sir." She took the offered hand and shook it. "I hope to see you on the next one again."

"You certainly may. Good night Captain."

"Good night sir." With that, only SG-1 remained, the caterers packed up and gone a while ago. Jamila returned to the living room, where the others lingered on various parts of the furniture. "Tidy!" she yelled – and all of them slid to their original places, including the couch with its three male inhabitants. The dirty dishes made their way to the kitchen, and the doors to the garden closed.

"Whoa!"

Sam got to her feet. "Should I help you with the dishes ma'am?"

"This is not necessary Sam. I have a housemaid… she'll come tomorrow and cleans up. And how many times did I tell you to call me Jamila on downtime?" She sat down at her piano again.

"Sorry ma'am err Jamila. But it's hard…"

"You're really a miss-by-the book… I'm kidding. Tea anyone?"

"Why not."

"I would appreciate it Captain Bartholomew."

"You really don't have any coffee Milady?" Daniel whined.

"As long as it is decaf I'm in," Jack yawned. "I really want to sleep in tomorrow. Your sleeping patterns are terrible Jamila."

The lady chuckled. "Sure. And what's wrong with my sleeping patterns? At least I sleep at night, _unlike others here_, and I get my training workload done. Which is more than anyone's at the SGC. And for the last time Daniel, no I don't. The only reason I would buy coffee for is making desserts."

"Okay, okay, okay, I get it. You hate drinking coffee. Period. Doesn't mean you cannot have some for your guest–"

"Nope. It's decaffeinated green tea." The shrieking flower power tea set flew in. "Sugar, lime?" she asked, pouring tea.

After finishing the pot and saying good night, even the team-mates trickled out of the house, Jack being the last. The only sound which could be heard as he left was the piano again. "The things unsaid…" he shook his head as he locked his door behind himself.

* * *

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 20  
Gym 3  
September 18, 1998  
ca 1000 Zulu

"Care to tell me why Teal'c is not as wound up as a spring anymore?" Jamila stood in the gym with Jack on a mat for hand-to-hand training. She had returned from downtime this morning. Sam stood on the other one teaching Daniel some more advanced tricks, and in the corner Teal'c was going through a staff routine.

"Long story. Happened while you enjoyed your downtime. How's the family?" he replied.

"Fine. So do tell…" The stances the two had taken and the dress they had chosen while circling each other spoke volumes of their respective training. Jack had his hands in the classic hand-to-hand gloves and wore the minimum amount of protectors over his sport gear, fists up in a classic middle guard, his feet shuffling a bit randomly but effectively over the floor. He wore no shoes.  
Jamila however wore a short bodysuit which fit her like a glove, the protective pads sewn into it, resembling a shorty diver suit; her feet were clad in soft cotton martial art slippers. The hands and forearms were bandaged with zinc oxide, although Jack currently could see only one of them clearly right now. Jamila had taken a variant of a Baguazhang stance, apparently her favourite, dominant left hand in a fist and forearm at the small of her back, waiting to strike. She stood in an angle to Jack, her right hand flat open, the palm facing her opponent, providing minimum target. Her steps were far more careful, following a nearly perfect circle pattern.

Exchanging a few testing blows and blocks, Jack sighed. "Well…"

_Two days ago__…_

Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 18  
Gym 1  
September 16, 1998  
1642 Zulu

Teal'c was making short stuff out of a couple of new recruits as the ever-persistent "Unscheduled Offworld Activation" in Lt Simmons's shy, boyish voice brought the training to an abrupt halt, since the next message was "Teal'c to the Control room."

Bra'tac had come, with bad news. Teal'c's son Rya'c had been abducted by Apophis. Upon hearing this, Hammond made his decision. "Teal'c, you originally withheld information about your family because you were afraid it would make you vulnerable. Well, it has. Now, I want this to be the last time. So, Colonel, you have a go." Originally, Jack had been in the mountain for his backlog of red tape, but now…

"Yes sir. But should we recall Captain Bartholomew? She's currently in London."

"Let's hope you won't need her this time. This is hardly something you need a multi-terrain heavy combat specialist for. I don't doubt though we can recall her within the hour if the need arises."

"Yes sir."

Without missing a beat, George continued. "Get Apophis if you can. But the prime directive of this mission is to bring Teal'c's family back to Earth."

"Yes sir. Okay people gear up."

_Present day_

"It was an emotional disaster." Trying a feint, Jack changed his direction, suggesting an elbow-blow to the chin turning into a backhand punch.

Jamila however brought her arm out and slapped his right at the wrist out of the way. She twisted towards him and sent a left-hand two-finger jab into his ribcage. "Not so fast Irishman. Why an emotional disaster?" she asked as she attempted two palm-strikes to the chest in fast succession.

Jack sweep-stepped to the side, turning his chest out of the way. "Turned out Teal'c's wife had remarried since he became the local traitor."

"Ouch." Not stopping her movements, she brought her hands to the ground and delivered a wide right-footed backside roundhouse kick to Jack's head, under which he ducked swiftly. But before he could do anything but block, Jamila spun further and delivered another, lower backside roundhouse kick to his head, sweeping him off his feet, this time with her left.

"That's rather what I need to say," he grumbled, getting back into stance. "Anyway, it turned out that we couldn't trust the guy she married despite being an old friend of T." At the same time he spoke, he rapidly ducked, spun around and swept Jamila's legs away. Before he could punch her on the ground, she spun to the side and made a back-roll to her feet. They met each other back in their respective openings. "Nice stunt. I wonder where I would have landed if you would use your Antarian strength in that combo before."

"In the wall. With a shattered arm and a cracked skull. What about Teal'c's son?" They picked up the circling again.

"Rya'c? Well, it came out Apophis had him brainwashed with some strong drugs and a sarcophagus. First attempt to rescue him failed. On the second one we killed Frot'ak, the guy who married Drey'auc since he tried to sell us to the head snake, and brought the two of them here. Drey'auc was okay, but the boy… the change was too convenient… and thanks to Drey'auc we found a bio-weapon hidden in two fake teeth of his and removed it." Stepping out of the way of a palm-strike to his jaw, Jack grabbed her left wrist and threw the taller woman in a shoulder-toss to the ground… or so he thought. Not missing a beat, Jamila broke her fall, landed on her right in a one-sided handstand and twisted her legs. The next thing Jack saw was the ground coming rapidly closer and Jamila doing a back handspring out of his reach. By way of pure muscle memory, he rolled off, just out of her attack range. "Scissor Leg toss. Wow. But a bit difficult to do it like that…"

Back to the circle. "I am not a cheap opponent, nor a cheap date. But to your credit I must say you are the first in years to actually toss me successfully off my feet. By the way, what kind of bio-weapon was it Jack?"

"One of the planet-killer category. Three days, and it would have been 'Good night my someone, good night' for Assiah."

"Oh my god… lucky us. How did this madness end? I mean, Rya'c was still a brainless marionette."

"Teal'c zatted him once. Stopped the programming. The kid didn't even remember being kidnapped. Afterwards we send them to the Land of Light, you know, the one from the incident you called 'The Broca Divide'."

"Ah! To quote Shakespeare, all well that ends well," she grinned.

"Yup." Exchanging various blows and blocking or evading them, they continued for a few minutes in silence. Deciding he had enough at last, Jack pulled off a double-feint, aiming for her jaw again in the end. What he didn't expect was the rapid change of direction his opponent pulled off, stepping behind him in a single fluid sweep.

"Gotcha," was all he heard, and then a hand was pressed into his spine, just between his shoulder blades. Trying to turn around, he soon found out _why_ Baguazhang users were called 'Circle walkers' and it was an even worse idea than usual to let one get behind your back – you couldn't hit someone who literally shadowed you and thus constricted your actions. "Damn it," he cursed. Suddenly, he was rained with strong pokes all over his left side, and Jamila's voice in his back recited an attack pattern, apparently in Japanese.

"Ni sho, yon sho…" Four pokes; and they _hurt_! "Hassho, juurokuyonsho, sanjuunisho…" More and more hits showered on him. The last one, "Hakke Rokujûyonsho," finally hit and sent him stumbling. "Bagua Lu Shi Si Zhang, and… _ha_!" With a final strike, Jamila sent him falling.

65 hits. He had just been hit 65 times. His mandarin and Cantonese was good enough to understand the Chinese name of the combo, Eight Trigrams Sixty-Four Palms. "Not with me." Twisting in mid-fall, he managed to get his back sailing to the floor instead of kissing it, grabbed her still outstretched left and, at hitting the ground, performed a perfect backside overhead toss, sending her to the ground as well.

"Fuck. Looks like we fought out a draw Colonel." Jamila grimaced and got to her feet, standing beside him and offering a hand.

"Thanks. Owowow… I hurt all over… I didn't know one could lose a fight by being poked and slapped… and yeah. Looks like we're equals in terms of skill too Captain." Accepting the hand, Jack got to his feet. They bowed to each other, both sweating and grinning. "Where did you learn that martial art? And why the Japanese?"

"I was still in my second academy year, and one of my instructors was worried that a seventeen-year old teen would not be able to keep up with her comrades in hand-to-hand. But he knew my resources and told me of that half-Manchurian half-Japanese Wushu teacher in London. I signed up for private lessons the moment I started studying in the city."

"Interesting. Funny fact that that teacher is a half-breed… you're less than half a human."

"Ha-ha. Anyway, do I pass flyboy?"

"With flying colours squid."

* * *

1 Nobody lives on 441 Irvington Ct; or any number over 440. The place is less than 0.8 km from the CMC as the crow flies, on the edge of Colorado Springs. The corresponding grounds are covered in trees.

2 Stargate SG-1: Do No Harm (Karen Miller) p 226 l 2

3 Season 1, Episode 16: Enigma, Final scene

4 The Proms – Henry Wood's Promenade Concerts – is the London summer music festival powered by the BBC. For ca 75 days and nights, the city is one big classical/not-so-classical music festival, usually starting in mid-July.

5 Nobody lives on 441 Irvington Ct; or any number over 440. The place is less than 0.8 km from the CMC as the crow flies, on the edge of Colorado Springs. The corresponding grounds are covered in trees, all fitting the description of Jack living at the edge of town and close to the base.

* * *

**Phew! I did it, there it is…**** finally ^^'. Coming Up next, Secrets. A day at Washington DC… what kind of surprises will it hold for the military members of SG-1? You'll see… ****Stay tuned!  
**


	7. Episode 4: Secrets Part I

**Year 2, Episode 4: Secrets, Pt 1**

**Spoiler: "Secrets" AT. Only Earth Part. Meet: Jack's father!  
Disclaimer: I don't own the lines spoken in the original. I'm don't own the Stargate franchise.  
I own Jamila and Jack's dad. That's all.**

**

* * *

**Colorado Springs, Colorado, USA, Earth  
Stargate Command/NORAD, Cheyenne Mountain Complex  
Sub-Level 27  
Briefing Room  
September 19, 1998  
ca 0800 Zulu

SG-1 sat together with the General around the table, staring at a video feed from a MALP they had sent to Abydos. From the screen, Daniel's father-in-law Kasuf stared at them. "Now that was just a few minutes ago. Obviously, Kasuf has unburied the Stargate, and is waiting. For me," Daniel concluded as he shut down the vid and sat down.

"One Abydos year to the day. They kept their word." Sam nodded.

"And I have to keep mine." He sat down.

"Daniel, you said you'd go back there in a year, with Sha're." Jack's face was sceptical.

"I know that. But at least I can tell her father that I haven't given up. That I won't give up."

"That she's a Goa'uld?" Jack added.

The younger man's face was set in hard, determined lines which rivalled the fighting spirit of the two mess officers' present. "Yes."

"Does he _really_ need to know that?" Jamila sighed.

"Kasuf is family." Daniel paused. "I owe it to him," he answered carefully.

"I have nothing against you returning to Abydos, Doctor Jackson," Hammond cut in cautiously, "but Colonel O'Neill, Captain Bartholomew and Captain Carter are due in Washington. And I can hardly ask the President of the United States and the Joint Chiefs of Staff to change their schedules."

"Well, if I don't go back now, they will bury the gate for good. It's what I told them to do if I never came back." Daniel took a deep breath in and continued. "General, I lived among these people for years, and I couldn't possibly be safer than in the company of Teal'c."

"Thank you, Daniel Jackson." A faint hint of a smile was on the Jaffa's face, showing his delight at the stated trust.

"You're welcome."

"Daniel Jackson assures me that the Abydonians are a peaceful people."

"They're a _great_ people. Are you kidding?" Jack turned to Sam, grinning. "In fact, why don't we blow off this medal ceremony thing and go with the boys?"

Sam smiled. _'This never gets old…'_ she thought.

"No chance Jack. There is no way in hell I let you get away to have fun while I suffer the paper tigers at the Pentagon to present myself and the Stargazer Project," Jamila smirked.

Grinning slightly, Hammond decided to wrap up the meeting. "You may leave when ready."

A few minutes later, Daniel was dressed into his Abydonian robe (with his BDU under it), with Teal'c following him in full gear. The team assembled in the Gate room, the 'big O' already active. Summarizing things in his usual to-the-point manner, Jack prompted, "So, we'll come pick you up in a couple of days, huh?"

Daniel nodded. "And say hi to the President for me."

Snipping his fingers, Jack quipped, "Will do."

And they were gone. "So, we now have some stuff to do, people to meet, and punch to drink, don't we?" Jamila grinned.

Sam shook her head, grinning at the antics. "Yes ma'am."

* * *

Washington, District of Columbia, USA, Earth  
Plaza in front of USAF Administration Buildings 35 & 36  
Plaza Staircase  
September 19, 1998  
just before 1400 Zulu

"You know… I can navigate my way across a galaxy, but I get lost every time I come to Washington." Jack, Sam and Jamila were making their way towards the reception they had to attend, going down the stairs towards USAF Administration Building 36; all of them clad in Class A Dress blues respective No 1 Dress blues.

"Don't worry, sir, these are my old stomping grounds," Sam grinned. Unlike the two mess officers, she wore a garrison cap, skirt, and standard issue heels with her uniform, which was a bit of a contrast to Jamila's preferred version of No 1 Blues, wearing trousers, mess dress shoes and a combination cap. It blended the older woman in with the masses of male officers, while Sam stood out.

"Sorry to hear that," Jack quipped.

"Keep me out of that. I was born in my capital," Jamila stated, putting her shades back on. Her uniform was the very same she had worn as she had waltzed into the SGC, being the epitome of confidence. She carried a metal briefcase, filled with data of the Stargazer.

"Two years at the Pentagon trying to make the Stargate program a reality. I'd say it was time well spent, considering."

"Ya think?"

Washington, District of Columbia, USA, Earth  
USAF Administration Building 36  
Reception Hall  
September 19, 1998  
ca 1400 Zulu

The trio headed to the cloakroom where a young Senior Airman took care of the objects, getting rid of the briefcase and their headgear.

"And don't you dare to loose that cap airman," Jamila warned.

"No ma'am."

"What's so special about it? Apart from being a bit older apparently. And a man's cap," Jack wondered, taking off his shades.

The sniper's face was serious. "The last First Sea Lord and Chief of Naval Staff was my mentor. The cap was his Captain's cap. He gave it to me as I was promoted to full Captain."

"Ah." Jack managed to contain his surprise and added, "Makes kind of sense." He pointed to his own. "That one's my father's."

"Nice."

"Wow." Sam was stunned, and then remembered something she wanted to ask earlier, on the plaza. "You were born in London, ma'am?"

"Yes. Charing Cross Hospital actually…"

"Oh. Is it really alright to leave the briefcase here ma'am?" Sam was slightly worried as they went to the staircase leading to the actual reception hall.

Grinning maliciously, Jamila replied, "The lock reads a person's EM-field and EEG. If someone else tries to open it by any means… boom. The case explodes and burns the files inside to ashes."

"Nice," Jack quipped. "Can we have some of these too?"

"Already in the making. They're actually quite simple." They started the descent. The staircase was built in a way that it connected the gallery upstairs with the hall below from two sides at the same time, the two sides meeting halfway on a platform stair, from which one had a good view of the room. The group came to a halt on the platform.

Sam scanned the crowd. "I see General Hammond's already doing the rounds."

Jack grinned. "Oh yeah. He's a player." He snapped his fingers repeatedly. "He knows how to work a room. Punch?" he asked the women.

"Yes, sir. Thanks."

"Get me a glass of champagne, Jack. I remember punch. I'll be back; my hair is a bit in disarray."

"Sure." And so they split up.

The SGC CO was talking to another officer with an equally balding head, a bit taller than himself, with the back to the staircase, he himself facing the stairs. Noticing his subordinate, George beckoned Carter to come closer. At the gesture, his conversation partner turned around, revealing himself to be another two-star USAF general. Sam recognized him immediately, a bit shocked. "Dad." Getting over the shock, Sam went over and hugged the older man.

At the end of it, she turned to her CO, question on face. "I invited Jake myself, captain. I thought you might enjoy the surprise," the General explained.

"Really sir, that's sweet." She smiled gratefully and let go of her father completely.

Feeling the need to explain himself again, Jake added, "George and I served together back when the Air Force really was this country's first line of defence."

As if Sam didn't know that! Hammond was her Godfather after all. On top of that was the issue with the SGC. "It still is," she prompted.

Jacob declined, trying to dismiss the tension. "Of course it is. I was talking about when the cold war was still on. Anyway, when George told me you were up for the Air Medal for your work in…" He stopped, the subject having slipped his mind, and turned to Hammond. "What the hell was that again?"

Slightly uncomfortable, Sam filled the silence as the SGC CO didn't answer. "Analysis of deep space radar telemetry."

"Right…" Jacob retorted, disbelief evident by his fake smile.

As if on cue, Jamila approached them carefully. At the same time, Jack arrived, juggling a champagne flute and two glasses of punch. "Sam, Jamila…" Jack handed the ladies their drinks.

"Thank you sir."

"Thank you, Jack."

Hammond played host and introduced them. "Colonel Jack O'Neill, Captain Jamila Bartholomew; Jacob Carter."

Jack raised an eyebrow, surprised. "Carter? As in…"

"As in my father sir, yes." Sam replied, smiling at the antics again.

"Get outta town! Sam's dad?" Jack grinned. "I've heard nothing about you, sir," he shook the older man's hand.

"What's there to say about an old General waiting to retire?" Jake answered ironically.

"Dad, I talk about you all the time," Sam interjected, trying to defend herself.

Well, that was common ground for Jack. "I retired myself one time. Couldn't stay away."

The younger man reminded Jacob of someone, but he couldn't put his finger to it. And he certainly didn't look like a military science geek. More like someone who once wandered the darkest parts of military work and lived to tell the tale, considering his ribbon rack. "From your analysis of deep space radar telemetry, you mean."

'_Damn,'_ Jack thought. _'That cover story really is kind of phoney, considering the people working at the SGC… Quick Jack, ah…'_ "Well, it's just so damn fascinating," he deadpanned, taking a sip of his punch.

"Well, it should be for a pair of astronomers, shouldn't it, Jack?" Jamila cut in.

'_Thanks Jamila,'_ he thought. "Oh yeah," he grinned, reminiscing about his pure awe at the Stargazer's holographic maps.

"And you are…?" Jake asked, slightly irritated.

Jamila shook her head in mock defeat. "You asked for it. Captain Jamila Sarah Miranda Elizabeth Mary Lady Bartholomew, DSc, sir."

"You're a bit old for being merely a Captain, Captain," Jake remarked as he shook the offered hand, trying not to wince at the casual strength of her grip. "You two are astronomers?" he asked, disbelief evident in his voice.

"Not with four stripes and OF-5, sir. I am with the Royal Navy." She pressed her fingertips together, revealing her rank insignia on her uniform cuffs.

Jacob was taken aback. The cuffs with the function pins and circle-topped rank insignia spoke volumes of her experience, rank and heritage. "I must apologize. Skipper." His eyes trailed up to her ribbon rack with the other function badges and widened slightly. _'Oh my god… that's the Victoria Cross. Distinguished Service Cross and what not. What's that? ah, the South Atlantic medal if I'm not mistaken. Kuwait Liberation Medal. NATO Medal. Sniper's Badge and a Captain's badge_ (note 1)_…'_ he checked his somewhat rusty memory of British awards and badges. The ribbon rack was shorter than O'Neill's, but just as impressive, considering that the UK had far less medals than the USA, and very similar to the one of her CO in accomplishments and overseas tours. _'Just what kind of monsters is my little girl working with? An Ex-Black ops officer and a __British__ Ex-Red Ops __Sniper__ who happen to be astronomers… just what the hell are they doing in that mountain… anyway, if everything works out, she won't be seeing them any longer. Especially that O'Neill-nut. I don't like how he looks at her. And how my little girl looks at him.'_

"Forgiven and forgotten, sir. Just take a closer look next time. And yes, both the Colonel's and my academic credentials are in the field of astronomy. It is one of the fields I managed to prove myself intellectually worthy of a Doctorate, a Doctor of Sciences to be precise…" she trailed off. "Oh sorry, I'm rambling. I really should not blow my own trumpet…"

"You're an astronomer Colonel?" Sam asked, a little surprised. Sure, she had read Jack's file, but not so thoroughly to know his academic grades. Before today, she always thought that astronomy was merely an advanced interest of his, and his work with the Stargazer had mainly to do with his excellent skill in mapping and understanding the language of the computer. Then again, back then when she had read his file, she hadn't been someone whose career background had been scrubbed, like these two had.

"Well, I don't like to blow my own trumpet as my colleague here says, but I happen to hold the same academic degree as she does. On top of aerospace engineering." Jack shrugged. It wasn't important to him usually, but he didn't like it if one of his peers and colleagues like General Carter actually believed his act that this old pragmatist was actually a no-brainer, and not the cunning fox his father had once called him.

"Oh…" Sam sipped her punch to circumvent an awkward answer. He was indeed a master at playing dumb, no; make that playing simply-single-minded. And god, that man was also an eye-candy… _'Quiet, brain!'_ The Skipper was equal in keeping things to herself.

"And now you work in… analysis of Deep Space Radar telemetry," Jake's scepticism, rooting in more than 30 years of Air Force service (especially AF intelligence) was still obvious.

"Actually, I came to NORAD with a special joint project, and you could say the Colonel is my partner in crime by now." Jamila took a mouthful of the sparkling beverage. "Nothing better than another astrometrist to work on Stargazer, if you have heard of it."

"Really…"

"She has no reason to lie to you, sir." Jack felt now a bit more secure with the now a bit more solid (now just Swiss cheese instead of paper-thin) cover story. "And as I said before, it's just so damn fascinating," he deadpanned again.

Trying to poke another hole into the statement, General Carter snide-commented, "Well, I'm sure it is. Otherwise you two wouldn't be receiving the Air Medal."

Jack grinned and got rid of his now empty glass cup as a waiter passed. "We have our moments." Noticing a familiar presence, he gazed up the stairs. "Well anyway, it looks like you're not the only one to have family today here, Carter. Look."

A tall man with silver-white hair and dark brown eyes, wearing the uniform and _three_-star insignia of a Lieutenant General of the United States Air Force had appeared on the staircase midsection. He was lean and strong for his age, and moved with a grace many younger and older lacked. His ribbon _racks_ (notice the plural!) marked him a veteran and hero of any war the USA had fought in the century but World War I and his function badges gave away his skill as a tactician and pilot. As he spotted them, he walked straight towards their little gathering, sporting a soft smile on his face. As he reached them, he immediately turned to Jack. "Jack!"

Said O'Neill stared in a bit of disbelieve at the other man before he returned the smile wholeheartedly. "Oh my God… Dad!" They hugged each other.

"What the…" General Carter's expression was priceless.

The older O'Neill released his son and turned towards his audience. At the sight of Jacob, his smile and any sign of human warmth disappeared. "General Carter," he acknowledged flatly.

"General O'Neill." Who didn't know Jacob would think he was unfazed by this, but the narrowed eyes showed his discomfort at the mere presence of the older man. _'What the hell?'_ he thought. _'He's the son of _that_ man?!'_ His problem was the fact that he was a solid admirer of the older O'Neill and his accomplishments, but the man was the king of holding grudges. For crossing him more than a decade ago, Jake still was on the black list of Jonathan sr.

So acknowledgement was all Sam's father got, and Jack's father turned to Jamila, who in turn straightened her stance. "Sir."

"Jamila!" He greeted her cordially, bowed down, brought her hand to his lips and gave a formal kiss to the back of her hand. (note 2)

"Jonathan." She gave him a warm smile and hugged him. "It has been far too long, old friend."

"It has indeed Milady. Three years?" The General let go of her.

'_What the hell…'_ Jake noticed now in his stupor that Captain Bartholomew was actually the tallest person present at the party at all, towering even the two O'Neills. _And_ she knew both of them personally.

"Four sir. The First Sea Lord's house party for the NATO Project Commanders."

"Ah, yes. Oh my god, where are my manners? George." He shook hands with Hammond.

"_General_ Jonathan O'Neill. What brings you to DC, sir?" the bald officer asked, his countenance surprised but pleased.

Jonathan grinned. "Coincidence. I was actually here for a report to the NATO HQ as I heard from James that _you_ have gained yourself another medal Jack! So I thought dropping in and giving you a 'Congratulations' would be nice before I have to catch my flight back tonight. And by the way, where are _your_ manners, my son?"

Jack grinned awkwardly. "Oh yes. Captain Carter, meet my father, Lieutenant General Jonathan James Patrick O'Neill, NATO Air Force Base Geilenkirchen, Germany. Dad, meet my Second-In-Command, Captain Samantha Carter, PhD."

Automatically, Sam tried to stand at attention, considering that the other O'Neill outranked her by nearly everything which was there to outrank. "At ease Captain," Jonathan ordered kindly. "This is a party. You can stand at attention all the time later on."

Sam blushed faintly, being unaccustomed to such courtesy, but relaxed. "Sir." She offered the General her hand and got herself a surprise as the man didn't shake it, but bent down again, suggesting a hand-kiss.

Jonathan's reward for his old-fashioned gallantry was a shy smile and a nice blush as he stood straight again. He smiled. "A lady, officer or not, should be treated with proper admiration and respect, or what do you think George?"

"Certainly sir," Hammond grinned. Jake was speechless.

"Th-thank you sir."

"You are _very_ welcome Captain," Jonathan smiled gently.

Jack however was not sure if he should be embarrassed, annoyed or proud of his father, who he nevertheless loved from the very bottom of his heart (not that he would ever admit that!). On top of that, there was the problem with the more-than-meagre cover story for the SGC, with its members being part of NORAD. Sam, Jamila and himself could be excused with their academic grades, but Ferretti for example held his degree in military history, just like that Jarhead Makepeace. And the worst case of course was Daniel, being an archaeologist with the reputation of a mad outcast with weird theories. Not to mention all the other not-star-or-tech-related non-military geeks at the command, and the plain military people, including top-class SFs for a facility whose official usefulness was slowly running thin or changing. It was uncomfortable, and on top of that was his deep-rooted dislike for DC, or rather, the way DC people behaved. It reminded him way too much of Kinsey and his goons. He shot Jamila a glance, who nodded, then turned to Sam's dad. "Um, will excuse me? We just don't get out of Cheyenne Mountain enough. We're gonna grab some air. Outside. General, Captain, General…"

"Wait Jack. I'll come with you." Jonathan's words were soft, but spoken with the finality of someone used to _a lot_ of power. "George, Captain Carter, Carter…"

"I'll see you later Carter," Jamila added, turning to follow the 'fleeing' O'Neills. "Excuse me gentlemen."

"Yes ma'am." She grinned.

Hammond shook his head at his 2IC's antics. "I guess I'll go make the rounds," he stated, leaving the Carters alone.

* * *

**Notes**

**1** I do not actually know the exact name for this one, but a naval officer who went through Senior officer's training and Captain's school is allowed/required to wear a special badge, designating the officer as capable of command of a naval unit, be it a Special Forces team, a ship of any size or a whole carrier group. The Captain's school training regimen is far more demanding than the usual Senior officer's training due to the special problems arising with commanding a ship, which is essentially a swimming mobile military base.

**2** That's the way it should be done to stick to proper protocol and manner, the one kissing the hand bowing down, not pulling it up to your face to do it. It is a gesture of respect, admiration and sometimes affection.

* * *

**AN: I heard it is a bit difficult to read my monstrous chapters, so I decided to split this in three parts. Tell me what you think. Reviews are food, I need them!**  
**I'm working on the next part already. Cya! Leave reviews!**


	8. Episode 4: Secrets Part II

**Year 2, Episode 4: Secrets, Part 2**

"Secrets" AT. Only Earth Part.

In "Secrets", Jack's father shows up at the reception (he was in Washington DC for his annual report) and demonstrates his contempt towards General Carter by a lack of warmth in his voice.

Disclaimer: I don't own the lines spoken in the original. The only things I own are my creativity, Jamila's lines, and Jonathan's lines.

**AN: The Pub in this story actually exists.**

* * *

Previously, on Stargate: SG-1 - Assiah…

"_Um, will excuse me? We just don't get out of Cheyenne Mountain enough. We're gonna grab some air. Outside. General, Captain, General…"_

"_Wait Jack. I'll come with you." Jonathan's words were soft, but spoken with the finality of someone used to a lot of power. "George, Captain Carter, Carter…"_

"_I'll see you later Carter," Jamila added, turning to follow the 'fleeing' O'Neills. "Excuse me gentlemen."_

"_Yes ma'am." She grinned._

_Hammond shook his head at his 2IC's antics. "I guess I'll go make the rounds," he stated, leaving the Carters alone._

**Year 2, Episode 4: Secrets, Part 2**

**Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter**** Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter Carter**

Turning away from the crowd, Jacob spoke softly, "Just between us, your cover stories could use a little polish."

Sam frowned. "Sorry, Dad, I don't know what you're talking about."

Jacob rowed back immediately. "Of course not. I'm out of line. But whatever it is you really analyze in that mountain, deep space or no deep space, it can't be as exciting as the real thing. I'm talking about getting you into NASA, Sam. I'm talking about you actually _going_ into space some day." He paused. "I made a call to Bollinger himself. Head of NASA?"

"I know–" Sam was… well, even speechless didn't do it justice… no, she was… well, rather irritated. It was obvious her father _didn't_ know what she was actually doing, unlike the Colonel's father, if she judged General O'Neill's behaviour right; otherwise he wouldn't say what he was saying now…

"I told him that you'd wanted to become an astronaut since you were a little girl, and that you'd given up–"

"I did _not_ give up–" Sam tried to cut in, but he didn't stop, talking at the same time as herself.

"Let me finish… that you gave up waiting for the Shuttle program to be reinstated after the Challenger disaster." Jake didn't stop, not noticing his daughter's agitation.

Sam shook her head. "It was bad timing."

Mistaking it for an opening, Jacob continued, a lot more enthusiastic than before. "We'll, I called in a few markers. I filled him in on your qualifications. You apply again as an Air Force Nominee, young lady, and I think you'll find NASA supportive."

"There's a waiting list a mile long."

"Not for you." Jacob's voice was filled with something she couldn't identify.

'_What the hell…'_ Sam couldn't believe it. "Dad, you can't do that."

He raised an eyebrow. "I did."

Her irritation slowly shifted to pissed off. "Without talking to me first," she stated. Her smile was gone.

Now it was Jake's place to be shocked. "You're… telling me you don't want this?" Disbelieve shadowed his features. Sam's answered by sighing and turning slightly away. "They know what you are capable of offering the Space Programme, Samantha. They want you."

'_Great. Another miscommunication Carter-style,'_ Sam thought, growing desperate. "That's not the point! The work I am doing right now is very important to me."

"With _these two_."

"Yes!" Sam knew she was on the defensive.

"It's not your _dream_."

The young woman shook her head. "Let's just leave it at that, please."

Jake was getting impatient. Here he was, doing all these things for his little girl, and then she just had to show the most un-charming trait of the Carter family: blockheaded stubbornness. Time for another strategy. "At least talk to the man. Do that much for me."

When would her father learn that guilt-trips didn't work on _both_ of them? Sam wondered. "I knew that sometime this would be about _you_."

Jacob fretted, affronted. "Alright." Why was she so stubborn? She had always wanted this…

Sam tried to negotiate. "Dad, it's not that I don't appreciate it…"

"I said alright." The aging General seethed with frustration and disappointment. "I'll catch up with you after the ceremony." Jake disappeared in the crowd.

"Dad…"

* * *

Washington, District of Columbia, USA, Earth  
Dubliner Restaurant & Pub  
520 N Capitol St NW  
The Bar  
September 19, 1998  
ca 1450 Zulu

"Two Guinness please." Jack sat down at the bar of the nearly empty pub, followed by his father and Jamila.

"One Lemon fizz. More fizz than anything else though please."

"Coming right up sir, ma'am," the bartender grinned.

Jonathan chuckled. "You haven't changed a bit Milady. Still hating beer."

"Oh yeah," Jack agreed, shaking his head.

"Hey, not everyone loves liquid bread." She pulled a sour face, mocking. Then she chuckled. "Irishmen." The drinks arrived.

"Limey," Jonathan countered, picking up his glass. "To family and old friends."

Clink. "To family and old friends," the others echoed.

"So dad, you said you heard of this… thing from James?" Jack took a long sip from his beer, sighing with enjoyment. The notion was mirrored by his father.

"I did. I was just reporting in and thought dropping a short visit would be nice."

Jamila felt a bit left out. "Who is this James you two are talking about again?"

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at his son. "Jack… have your social skills diminished _again_?"

"Err… maybe," his son mumbled. His father was still the No 1 in staring him down. Although his current CO, Jamila and his best friend from the Academy were close calls.

Staring for just a while longer, General O'Neill lost the frown finally and chuckled. "Easy son. Anyway, Lt Col James Jonathan O'Neill is Jack's twin brother milady."

"Dad…" Jack was just that close to start whining. But it was his father. The one person it wouldn't work on – the _source_ of the trait.

Jamila shook her head. "Twins. I should have guessed, considering your family, sir. Fraternal or identical?"

"Identical. Here, let me show you…" The older O'Neill reached for his uniform jacket, intent on pulling out a photograph he always kept close to his heart as a young man interrupted the amiable atmosphere.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, right?"

Jack looked up from his nearly finished beer. "I'm not sure," he quipped.

The young man had dark blonde hair, a fresh face and was dressed 100 percent plainly – a micro-chequered jacket with a middle-brown tinge, light brown dress trousers and a blue shirt. What caused alarm to Jamila was the fact that the stranger wore no tie. To her, the daughter of celebrities, this screamed "Press". The impression was confirmed by the next exchange. "You are one hard man to find, let me tell you." He dropped into the chair on the right of Jack as if he had been invited. Yes, press. She shot the O'Neills a warning glance saying, _"Danger, Media maniac."_

Jack gave a mental nod as he received the telepathic message. Time to clear the front. "Who are you?" _"Leave the lead to me,"_ he thought. _"I'm not one on media,"_ the annoyed answer resounded in his head.

The stranger kept his nonchalant attitude. "Armin Selig. I'm a journalist." He nodded to the barman. "I'll have a beer."

_That's it,_ Jack thought. "Why don't you have mine?" He emptied the last contents of the glass, setting it down before the obnoxious reporter. "I haven't touched it." Simultaneously, his company finished their respective drinks. They got up.

The next remark of the journalist however threw the three people off. "Heading back to the Stargate so soon?"

"The what?" They proceeded to pick up their covers. _Jack has the dumb-as-a-stump routine down really well_, his father mused, and set down a 20-dollar-note to cover the bill.

"Big round greyish thing, can't miss it."

"I don't know what that is."

As they passed the youngster, same pulled out a Dictaphone. "Before you go, Colonel, maybe you should hear this. I knew you were coming here, so I planned ahead, and I got a little lucky." He pressed the play button, and the conversation on the staircase plaza came back to life.

"_You know… I can navigate my way across a galaxy, but I get lost every time I come to Washington."_

"_Don't worry, sir, these are my old stomping grounds."_

"_Sorry to hear that." _

"_Keep me out of that. I was born in my capital." _

"_Two years at the Pentagon trying to make the Stargate program a reality. I'd say it was time well spent, considering."_

"_Ya think?"_

The voices sounded filtered. Jack smiled faintly. "Parabolic microphone across the square or staircase bug, maybe?"

Selig shrugged as he put the MD player away. "Something like that."

Jack pulled an annoyed face and shook his head. Better to end this now. "Technology. Listen, I don't know who your source is, but I am a Colonel in the US Air Force. A C-5 Galaxy is a transport aircraft, one of the largest in the world. That's what I was referring to."

"And the Stargate?" the reporter digged deeper nonetheless.

Jack grinned as if Selig just had told him a joke. "You got me on that one." They left.

**Washington Post Washington Post Washington Post Washington Post Washington Post Washington Post Washington Post Washington Post  
**

Outside, Jamila scowled. "I need a shower. I smell like printer ink."

Jack snorted, but then shook his head. "Sorry Jamila… we have to report this to Hammond. Besides, is your mother not a senior member of BBC Music?"

"Since when is BBC Yellow Press I wonder?" the woman snapped.

"Easy you two," Jonathan cut in. "Now, you're going to report this to Hammond, I'm going to tap into the grapevine to find a lead on this. I'll meet you afterwards at the reception call."

Both nodded. "Later then, Dad."

**Yellow Press Yellow Press Yellow Press Yellow Press Yellow Press Yellow Press Yellow Press Yellow Press Yellow Press Yellow Press  
**

Washington, District of Columbia, USA, Earth  
USAF Administration Building 36  
Reception Hall  
September 19, 1998  
ca 1515 Zulu

Back at the party, Hammond was talking to another Colonel about boxing as Jack and Jamila returned. "He's got great hands. He can really snap the jab. He was getting off all night, so he cut in with three good ones, then he feinted with his right, came in with a left hook and right cross and the guy was down! It was a great–"

"General, sir, a moment please?" Jamila cut in.

Hammond turned around, question on his face; answered by the grim expressions of his XO and the British sniper. "Excuse me…" Understanding immediately, the younger Colonel left.

Jack took a deep breath in, forcing himself to un-grit his teeth. "We've got a problem, Sir. We've sprung a leak. Apparently someone with knowledge of the program talked to a reporter."

As if they wouldn't have enough problems. "This reporter approached you?" he asked.

"Yes sir."

"And you said…?"

"Denied everything. Made a joke out of it. He didn't buy it."

"How much does he know?" This _screamed_ Red Alert all over.

"Well, if he knows me – he knew how to find me here – a lot. And he's not afraid – he approached me while in the company of _my father_ of all people." Jack sighed, this was one of the many reasons he hated The District – too much politics.

"Then you're right, we've got a problem," Hammond concluded grimly. "Captain, get Captain Carter please. We're in the ceremony room."

"Sir." Jamila vanished into the crowd.

"Where's General O'Neill now?" The pair left the reception quietly, coming to a halt in front of one of the windows in the ceremonial room.

"He wanted to find out where the leak comes from." Jack raised an eyebrow in question. "Why does my father _know_ about the Stargate?"

"That's my fault Jack. He's a NATO project commander. With a clearance as high as one of your Joint Chiefs of Staff," Jamila sighed as she entered the room, Sam in tow. "He was _in the room_ when my superiors' request came in. And I have the feeling he knew about it beforehand… he keeps tabs on all his children I think."

Jack shook his head, snorting defeated. "Ya… that would be typical for him."

"He _did_ know beforehand, Colonel," Hammond assured them.

"What is this about Sir?" Sam wondered.

"We've sprung a leak Captain. A reporter with knowledge of the Stargate approached the O'Neills and Captain Bartholomew," the General answered.

Sam paled, if that was actually possible. "How much does he know?"

"Enough to get us all into serious trouble. Didn't seem to know about the recent British involvement, but… Carter, he knew how to find _me_ here. _Today_."

"Oh… Say he runs this story – how bad can it get?" she asked the SGC commander.

"Bad. The domestic repercussions alone – half the government would want to bury it, the other half would want a piece of it. After that the international fall-out when Russia and China find out we've been keeping it from them… not to mention the bargain with the British government would be broken."

"You forgot the French sir. If you pardon my French, they can get utterly _pissed_ if left out. And this is peanuts compared to the problems I would be faced with. While most here would just bury the Stargate, literally everyone would love to have a piece out of me."

Jack first had wanted to say he didn't see a problem, but Jamila's words reminded him of the personal consequences involved in full disclosure in this form. "A piece of Bartholomew's legendary luck and good fortune. This would be just what your parents' adversaries have been waiting for. Access to a person who grows money on her head, sneezes diamonds, kills with thoughts and heals with a touch. Knowledge of Alien tech and resources, the base for Bartholomew's ATS Ltd.…" He shuddered. "How much does your family invest in your safety?"

"The majority of our political pull and money goes into the safety of my children. My own safety… as the Duke of Dover's heir, I am a publicity. They can't touch me easily. But let's not get too far."

"Proof of the existence of aliens. Hundreds of other worlds populated by ancient human cultures." Sam had to fight a headache. "I can't help but wonder who the source could be."

"Any of hundreds of people Carter."

"I have a hard time believing it's one of ours. Every member of the SGC knows how important our work is." Sam shook her head. "Same goes for the First Sea Lord's staff…"

"That would be counterproductive indeed, they would all drown themselves." Jamila bit her half-fisted thumb. "My husband is the Sea Lord's Chief-of-Staff, and I have worked with all these people for years."

"I agree with Captain Carter and Captain Bartholomew. It's much more likely political."

"Kinsey?" Sam wondered.

"Well if he knows, at least a dozen sycophants know," Jack remarked.

"Civilians sign non-disclosure statements. Technically that makes them liable to prosecution under the espionage act."

"Only espionage? Where I come from, this is also downright high treason," Jamila scoffed.

"That too Captain, if the circumstances are correct. They're still working on that."

"True enough," a new voice remarked.

"Dad." Jonathan had returned, a worried aura surrounding him. "What did you find out?"

"It is definitely political, but the actual source is… well protected. And with my 'theoretical' questions I couldn't get very far."

"Shit." '_Time to end this,_' Jack thought. "So what should we do? Sue them?" he asked his CO.

Hammond shook his head in denial. "There's still some time before the ceremony, Colonel. I'd like to know how much he knows before he goes to print. It would be good if you would go too Captain. I won't force you, but your telepathic abilities…"

"No problem sir. My manners end where my family is involved."

"Good. Do you know how to find him?"

Jack re-buttoned his dress jacket and took out his shades, a gesture mimicked by his British friend as they turned to the door. "We'll let him find us, sir."

"Good luck you two."

"Thanks Dad."

Washington, District of Columbia, USA, Earth  
Outer Staircase of USAF Administration Building 36  
»Smoker« Bench  
September 19, 1998  
ca 1540 Zulu

'_If this will get more cliché, I'm going to scream,_' Jack thought. The two of them sat outside on one of the benches in front of the building, facing the sun, shades on.

'_Careful Jack, I can hear you still…_' came the answer on the mental channel. '_You're »loud«… besides, he's here._'

And indeed, in the next moment, one Armin Selig sat down beside the two officers, sporting a cocky expression. "Looking for me? Find out what the reporter knows while your people check on his credentials."

Jack smirked faintly. "Ah, that's a cliché, Armin."

Selig shook his head. "I'm very good at this, Colonel. I've been doing it a while. Granted, this'll be the biggest story I've ever broken, but then it's the biggest story anyone's broken, isn't it?"

'_Make him think about the program! I so don't want to search through his _whole_ memory…_'

'_Still too well-bred, Jamila, eh… Well, I'm working on it… and don't get passionate all over again, leave it to me. You're opinions are more hindrance than help sometimes._'

'_Ha-ha…_'

"Tell me," the Colonel stated laconically.

"Look, I've got all I need. I don't need you, but I've gotta admit I wanted to meet you anyway. When this breaks, you're gonna be a hero."

'_300% cliché. Young journalist with ambitions finds big secret and gets everyone into trouble._' Jack snorted. "Cool. So what are you gonna say about me?"

Armin shook his head. He should have considered that anyone truly involved wouldn't talk. But hey, one can hope. "Subtle. Okay, I'll do you a favour. You're the team leader of a unit called 'SG-1'. Between nine and twelve such units operate out of Cheyenne Mountain under NORAD. You use a device called a 'Stargate' to travel light years from here." He paused, taking a deep breath in. "The program costs us over seven billion dollars a year. The defence department hopes to bring back superior technologies to offset the expenditure."

'_JACK! He knows… _everything. _Up to Apophis' attack, he knows __everything relevant to know__. Including many names on the program…_' The shocked conclusion of his Antarian friend penetrated his mental space.

'_Fuck! Thanks Jamila. Let's give him a chance to back off though…_' Jack shook his head, as if in amusement. "Armin, let me do you a favour. You don't know anything. Don't embarrass yourself."

The young reporter continued unimpressed. "I know that those two brilliant flashes in the night sky a few months ago were really alien ships on their way to attack Earth. You blew them up."

'_Well, he's just like the guys of _The Sun_ back home._' Jamila narrowed her eyes. '_Forget it._'

'_Sure is…_' Jack sighed. "I did. Alright. If you're going to go ahead with it, I want to make sure you get one thing right. It's O'Neill, with **two Ls**. There's another Colonel Jack O'Neil with only one L in the Air Force, he has… no sense of humour at all." He got up, followed by the tall frame of his team-mate, and turned to the building.

"The story's going to run, Colonel."

"It'll read like science fiction, Armin."

"This country has no official secrets act!" Selig called after them.

"I know that!" he called back. '_Actually it has, it's just so secret you don't know…_'

'_And then they say __we__ keep not telling people. That guy has got his eyes set on the Pulitzer Award._'

"You can't stop me!" the young reporter warned.

"I know that too."

"You don't think anyone will believe it," Selig frowned.

'_Yup. Definitely Pulitzer Award hunter._' Jack finally bothered to turn around, pity in his expression. "I'm sure someone will. But it's not me."

"We'll see." Selig sighed and turned to leave. "That's two Ls, right?"

Just as he tried to cross the street, a speeding car went straight for Armin. The screeching tires caused the two mess officers to turn back around – just in time for the crash. Just after Selig was tossed back onto the path, hard, the driver hit the gas and sped away. In a flash, the duet was back down the stairs, yelling orders. "You! 911, ambulance, now!" Jack yelled at a young officer at the side.

Meanwhile, Jamila had cradled his head in her hands, trying to assess the damage with her diagnostic abilities. "Don't move, don't try to move."

"You – you did this," Armin gasped, accusing Jack, the Air Force and the world in general.

"No. No, we didn't do this." Jack shook his head violently. That once would have been both Jamila's and his style, but it _never _had been Hammond's.

"Son of a bitch…" he rattled.

»Oh no, you won't«! Jamila hissed in High Antarian, concentrating on keeping the young man alive _without _the treacherous glow of her hands.

* * *

**Notes**

**Limey:** Humorous name for British, especially Navy.

**ATS Ltd.:** ATS Ltd. means Advanced (aka Alien) Technology Sources Limited. It is the newest part of the Bartholomew corporate empire, focussing on the reverse-engineering and further development of alien technologies given by Jamila. Their greatest accomplishment so far: The complete reverse-engineering of carbonite-synthesizers, specifically for fibre form and crystal form (the latter used for unbreakable windows and unbreakable two-way-mirrors, the former for bullet/ environment poison-proof combat gear, including Jamila's diver suit and combat diving ankle boots).

* * *

AN: What do you think... review please, they make me write! Coming up next, the conclusion of Secrets... Armin has to decide, life lies or dead truths? Stay tuned!


	9. Episode 4: Secrets Part III

**Year 2, Episode 4: Secrets, Part 3**

**"Secrets" AT. Only Earth Part.**

**In "Secrets", Jack's father shows up at the reception (he was in Washington DC for his annual report) and demonstrates his contempt towards General Carter by a lack of warmth in his voice.**

**

* * *

Previously, on Stargate: Assiah…**

_Meanwhile, Jamila had cradled his head in her hands, trying to assess the damage with her diagnostic abilities. "Don't move, don't try to move."_

"_You – you did this," Armin gasped, accusing Jack, the Air Force and the world in general._

"_No. No, we didn't do this." Jack shook his head violently. That once would have been both Jamila's and his style, but it never had been Hammond's._

"_Son of a bitch…" he rattled._

_»Oh no, you won't«! Jamila hissed in High Antarian, concentrating on keeping the young man alive _without_ the treacherous glow of her hands._

* * *

**And now, the conclusion...**

Spiritual Realm  
Area: A Crossroad of Two:  
? /Jamila Bartholomew and Armin Selig  
September 19, 1998  
ca 1600 Zulu

"What the… where…?" Armin twisted around, puzzled. This place was definitely not DC… or heaven or hell… it was foggy, and kind of familiar.

"Don't be afraid." Suddenly, the mist dissolved, revealing Jamila in her true form. They were standing in a plane, covered with mist and water. Two doors stood in the middle of nowhere, facing off.

"Where am I?"

"Hmm… this place is very interesting, not as shaky as many others… but far weaker. This is a place where our minds touch." Jamila grinned.

"WHAT? What the hell are you?"

"And I thought you were an intelligent person, capable of drawing conclusions." Jamila's apparition made a sour face. "Well, I am not a human being, if that's what you mean. I am an Antarian, capable of many things. Among them telepathy. I serve together with Jack O'Neill. I am Captain Jamila Bartholomew, Royal Navy. Now listen closely. In the outer world, not even a second has passed, but you are a hair's breadth away from death. And before you ask, it is impossible to lie in here. _We didn't do this to you_. Got it? Or why would I risk public exposure by keeping you alive if all we should do is draw you out so one can kill you?"

Armin's mind was racing as he took all of this in. A bona fide alien serving in Earth military… and she was right, if they wanted him dead, he wouldn't be now in this "dream world", for a lack of better term. No, she wanted… "What's the catch? I assume you want some kind of bargain."

Jamila chuckled. "Always to the point. Well, it's simple. Your life for your silence. And your service."

"What?" The puzzlement was back in full force.

"I can heal you. Not right here and right now, but later on. We'll make appropriate arrangements. For now, I want you to _not_ publish your findings, and instead, you are the one writing our cover-ups."

"NO FUCKIN–"

"Everything has its price," she cut in mercilessly. "Balance _must_ be preserved at all costs, and the price must be appropriate for the service. And I wasn't finished yet."

Armin bowed his head. "What's the deal?"

"Become our spin-doctor. Deviate, cover up, deny…" she paused, "and at the same time, you prepare the eventual disclosure of everything. This cannot be kept silent forever, but if you bring it to print now, you will endanger everyone. Essentially, I am not asking for your silence as a price. I want your loyalty. _All of it._"

"I… well, it's my life, ain't it…" he looked away. Life lies, or death's truths… what a choice. Well, not exactly a lie, only a postponing of the truth actually, if she would be keeping her word. "How do I know I can trust you?"

_Crash_. Armin was slammed into his own mental door, with the force of a heavy storm of malice. His conscious representation hung in the air. "You are _in no position_ to question my reliability, Selig, hear me? I could have let you hang out to dry but instead I am risking exposure for the guy who could ruin my life! Or what's left of it, for the matter… how many people will have to die for your deaths' truths until you are _**satisfied**_?"

For that, the young man had no answer. He had never really considered what breaking this story could mean to those involved, not that he could expose the source anyway; it all had been sent by mail. All things considered; **if he would have been one of them**… "All right, I'll take door № 1… Life lies by loyalty… Captain. For now."

"Good answer." »Jamila« smiled, and the storm subsided, putting Armin to the ground. "And don't you dare to forget it!" Jamila's sentinel exploded in a ball of light and lightning, and suddenly, he had to hang onto the »doorknob« of his own door for dear life, as a burning sensation washed over his »neck« as soon as the light touched him. As it was gone, his hands went up to his neck to feel… metal embedded into his »skin«; writing in strange symbols forming a collar. The light died, but Jamila was gone. But he was still in this strange dream world, so she had to be somewhere still. "What's that?" he wondered, staring at his reflection in the "thought water" on the ground.

"The sign of our agreement, etching it into your soul. The phrase says 'I am bound by my words to loyalty', in my kind's language. You will find yourself unable to expose these truths to the grand public until the contract is fulfilled. Not even drugs can change this." Jamila's image replaced his own.

Immediately, he got it. "A deal is a deal, Captain. I have no intention to betray you. So it's a safety measure in case someone tries to get something out of me."

"Yes." The mirror image smiled. "Although, you still will have to sign the usual non-disclosure agreement once you are on your feet again."

"No problem ma'am."

"Well then, see you later…"

"Wait! How do I leave this place?"

"Go home. That's your door. Not mine." The mist was back, and the water gone.

"Alright…" He shook himself. "**Why does it have to end like ****this****? Why?**"

Washington, District of Columbia, USA, Earth  
Outer Staircase of USAF Administration Building 36  
September 19, 1998  
ca 1555 Zulu

In brief thoughts, Jamila transmitted the agreement to Jack. _'No choice, sorry…'_

'_No problem I think. Just explain it to Hammond.'_

'_Sure. Make the arrangements for him to be taken back with us, he's in danger.'_

'_Alright.'_

Jack raced up the stairs to find Hammond. Time was the essence; they needed to redirect the Ambulance to Andrews so Jamila could teleport Armin straight to the SGC…

Half an hour later Jamila stepped out of a shadow, falling into step beside Jack to face the police, making their statements. _'Just in time for the briefing with the Joint Chiefs…'_

'_Everything settled then?'_

'_He's sleeping the slumber of the just. It was close though.'_

This communication form was certainly strange, but it was way too convenient for people like him who thought speaking to be a bother, and had problems with speaking at all._ 'Phew. Hammond is making the arrangements for his future job as the program spin-doc. It certainly is a good idea, he thinks… But, I'm afraid you will have to make a statement to the police,'_ he thought.

'_Oh great. Well, let's make this quick…'_

Washington, District of Columbia, USA, Earth  
USAF Administration Building 36  
Ceremonial Auditorium  
September 19, 1998  
1710 Zulu

Later, upstairs in the room reserved for ceremonies and speeches, one even more disappointed Major General Jacob Carter stared out of the same window his old friend stood in front of a few hours ago as his daughter approached him. Without turning around, he stated, "You must be disappointed. Any idea why the President cancelled?"

"Colonel O'Neill and Captain Bartholomew witnessed an accident. The President couldn't adjust his schedule. Bad timing all around. General Hammond's going to present us with our medals at a private ceremony back at the base," Sam explained.

Jacob scowled shortly before turning around. "Well, it's the honour that matters, whether I can be there or not."

Something in her father's tone caused Sam to puzzle. What else was going on? "Dad?"

"I have cancer, Sam."

"What?"

"Lymphoma."

"That's bad." Shock settled in Sam's bones, freezing mind and body.

"Well, it's not good. But it's not the worst. Don't you worry; I'll be around for a while," Jake stated, a little flippantly.

"Oh God, Dad!" Sam hugged her father, trying to silence the panicked voices in her head.

The old man stepped back. Continuing in the same, slightly flippant tone, he added, "I was hoping to stick around long enough to see you become an astronaut. Sweetheart, I don't care what it is you do in that mountain, deep space or no deep space, nothing in the world can live up to the chance to actually go into space. Not for you – it's something you've wanted your whole life. And I admit it; I want to see you fulfil your life's dreams before I die."

"It's _my dream_; doesn't that make it up to me?" Sam smiled sadly.

Jake sighed. "Fathers have dreams too," he admitted.

There it was, the typical Carter-communication… talking at cross purposes. She shook her head. "Sorry, I can't–"

Hurt, the aging General picked up his trench coat. "Alright. Like I said, this thing's going to go on for months, so you don't have to check up on me tomorrow."

"Dad, please don't go like this…"

"Congratulations on the medal. I'm sure you deserve it." He nodded curtly and walked off.

Sam lowered her head. "Carter?"

"Sir." The two mess officers stood in the door. "Ma'am…"

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but we still have a meeting with your Joint Chiefs… are you alright?" the woman asked, noticing both the shaken vibe in Sam's aura and the unshed tears in the eyes.

"I will be I think. Let's go."

"Great. More starched shirts…"

"Funny mermaid."

"Watch it flyboy…"

**GeneralAdmiralGeneralGeneral GeneralAdmiralGeneralGeneral GeneralAdmiralGeneralGeneral GeneralAdmiralGeneralGeneral **

Arlington, Virginia, USA, Earth  
United States Department of Defence, The Pentagon  
Entrance Hall  
September 19, 1998  
1830 Zulu

The meeting was over, the Chiefs, sans Jonathan sr., gone. "I don't think they really got it." Jamila shook her head. "That ability of the technology is totally dependent on the physical limitations of the user – only a telepath/technopath can completely use it!"

"Easy Milady," Jonathan reassured her. "It's not that much of a drama."

"Basically, to them it's more than enough that you can spy into deep space and our own world with it, better than any computer we have." Sam smiled.

"Right." Jamila flipped her cover on her head, a motion mimicked by the others.

"Well I think that's it," the Lt General concluded. "And just in time."

"You have to leave already dad?" Jack frowned.

"My flight goes in an hour. I expect your letter as usual son." There was that smile again… it was the same as his son's, Sam noticed. And overall, the colonel was indeed his father's son; the only difference was the age gap and the hair colour… _Delicious…_ she fought a blush desperately and hoped that she wasn't projecting. While Sam was still musing, Jonathan swept his son in a hug. "Be good, okay?"

"Always, _athair_." (note 1)

Letting him go, the old General turned to the women. "It was nice getting to know you Captain. I hope I will have the pleasure again," he addressed Sam, this time, saluting. "Milady… since you're onshore again, why don't you drop by once in a while?"

"_When_ I find the time, good friend, when I find the time." The sour mood of the Antarian had been replaced with her signature good-natured smirk. »Atrasta nil zanar« – may you always find your way through the dark."

"Why thank you your ladyship…" He grinned too as he gave her another hand-kiss for goodbye, "Farewell."

"Crazy old man…" Jack muttered.

Jonathan stopped in his tracks as if he had forgotten something and turned around again. "Oh Jack?"

Automatically, said son went into a relaxed kind of parade rest, hands clasped on his back. "What is it dad?"

"Can you do me a favour please?" the older man asked with a slightly uncomfortable smile.

Returning the smile, his son answered, "Of course."

"Don't die before I do Jack… my son."(note 2) Their eyes met.

Jack was speechless for a moment, noticing the unsaid message, speaking of pride and love. "I will," he promised; his eyes unguarded.

With another kind smile at them, Jonathan James Patrick O'Neill left.

"Your father is exceptional," Jamila stated after a few minutes.

"Yeah." Jack closed his eyes. "_Tá cion agam ort chomh maith__ (note 3)__, athair_", he whispered, grinning.

"What did he mean by this last one, sir?" Sam was puzzled.

"Huh?" The tall Irishman reopened his eyes and shot her a stray glance, lost in thoughts.

"The 'don't die before I do' line."

"Oh. That…" Jack shook his head to clear it. "It may sound funny, but my father's greatest dream, ever since I followed his footsteps, was that one day, I would outrank him…"

"A bit difficult with him now being a Lieutenant General," Jamila quipped.

"Yeah… or at least have the same rank. Either way, as long as he says that line…" he let the sentence hang in the air.

Sam made a confused gesture, urging him to go on.

Drawing an audible breath, he finished, "As long as he says that line, it means he is not disappointed with me," and turned his gaze to the door, a faint but satisfied smile on his face.

"Good to know. Let's go home too. To our ocean of stars…"

Sam snorted again. "Yes ma'am." They left the building.

"What now? Hammond said you were willing to take us 'along'", Jack noted.

Jamila grinned and led them to a small orchard outside, obscuring them from view. There, she held up her right arm. "Grab on."

"Jamila?"

"My peripheral teleportation abilities cost too much energy. Something which touches me however becomes an extension if I want to and is taken along. Now, _hold on tight_."

"Okay." Grabbing the forearm of the Antarian, they vanished in a flash of light.

* * *

1 Irish: Father

2 Quote from "Tales of Symphonia", end sequence. Original: "Don't die before I do Lloyd… my son."

3 Irish: lit. _I have fondness for you too_, often used for I love you too.

* * *

AN: ATS Ltd. means Advanced (aka Alien) Technology Sources Limited. It is the newest part of the Bartholomew corporate empire, focussing on the reverse-engineering and further development of alien technologies given by Jamila. Their greatest accomplishment so far: The complete reverse-engineering of carbonite-synthesizers, specifically for fibre form and crystal form (the latter used for unbreakable windows and unbreakable two-way-mirrors, the former for bullet/ environment poison-proof combat gear, including Jamila's diver suit and combat diving ankle boots).


End file.
